It was almost midnight when Di stuck her head into my room.

‘Joan, did you see the guy on our doorstep? I stepped on him!’

I swung around from my work. ‘What?’

‘There’s a man sleeping at the door. I stepped on him and he just… grunted. I had to come in around the back. What do we do?’

‘Wow. Gosh. No, I didn’t see him. I… guess we just leave him there. He’ll leave tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I figured. Okay, good night, Joan!’

‘Wow. Good night.’

As Di went down the stairs, I called out, ‘Thank God he didn’t assault you or anything!’

‘Yeah, I thought that too!’

Something happened, which has never happened before.

I put my duvet cover into the laundry. When I pulled it out of the machine, it was strangely heavy. During the laundry cycle, somehow, a pair of jeans, a shirt, a towel and a pair of tracksuit bottoms had crawled into the little gap where I would normally stuff my single bed duvet/doona.

What were they hiding from?

Had a meeting in Bristol, 3.5 hours by train from Cambridge. Big rain, fat rivers of water slashing the train windows. Thought I might be late to meeting but got there in time.

Going back, looking forward to seeing Damjan at dinner in Swindon, then to Oxford. When I got to Bristol Parkway station, a hundred lost looking souls and 1 PM trains still on the platform, three hours late.

‘What’s happening?’ ‘We’ll tell you when we know.’ ‘What’s happening?’ ‘We’ll tell you when we know.’ ‘What’s happening? Can I get to Cardiff? London? Didcot? Oxford? Bath?’ ‘No.’

Trains down, roads flooded. No routes to Swindon, to Oxford, to London, to Cambridge.

‘There will be one train. It will go to Bristol Temple Meads.’

What is Bristol Temple Meads? Called Anna, who lived in Bristol once.

‘What do I do?’

‘Go to Temple Meads, Joan. It’s the main station in town.’

Other people with luggage and trolley bags were sent on a coach back to Wales. I took the train to Temple Meads. Five minute train ride took almost half an hour. Speed restrictions? Sections flooded?

Called Damjan. He was turning back. Got partway to Swindon but now had to go back to Oxford. I almost cried. No way between here and there. Disappointment. Will be staying here tonight.

Called classmate Joe, Anna’s boyfriend, Bristolian. He was driving from Cambridge to Bristol. Arranged for me to stay at his parents’ house. Relieved.

Joe to arrive 8 PM but came in at 11 PM. Had to cross country to get around the floods.

Woke early next day in someone else’s home. Good kind people. Sent me to train station. Was lucky — one line out of Bristol and it was the one I needed. Got on train. Carriage soon crowded with refugees, yesterday’s backlog.

Train left Bristol, arrived in Bath. Others squeezed on. After that, no one could get on train. Bewildered passengers left on the platforms.

Sardines. ‘Why did I pay for my ticket today?’ someone shouted through the carriage. ‘I’d like to see a ticket inspector go through here!’

Laughter.

Everyone talking to each other, telling their stories. Thousands of cars abandoned on M4 highway. ‘M4 landslide causes traffic chaos.’ One person stuck on train for six hours. Others wading through four feet of water. People naked up telegraph poles.

‘Last night, my 85 year old grandfather flew into Birmingham airport. My wife, my brother and I were at three different parts of the country and none of us could get to the airport to pick him up.’

Harry Potter fans canoeing to the book launch?

Maybe this havoc is Voldemort’s work.

Took two hours for train to go from Bristol to Oxford. Train speed limited, dodgy track. Authorities must have spent the night pumping water. Watched flooded fields go by on both sides of track. Electricity poles in lakes. Tall trees now mangroves.

Saw flooded roads, dozens of cars abandoned and empty on roadsides.

Finally, to Oxford and something like home. Tired, hungry, sick with cold. Went home to Cambridge via London. Sleep.

When I reached the pedestrian crossing, the ‘WALK’ signal had just started flashing. I stepped off the curb on to the black and white stripes. An old lady and a man cradling a baby were already in front of me.

‘WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU DOING?’ the man with the baby yelled.

My heart was pounding. A red car had decided to reverse back into the zebra crossing. It had only stopped when the man yelled.

I could have been run over.

At least the old lady and the man with the baby would have cushioned the impact.

Last Wednesday, I had to travel to Solihull, which is less than two hours from Cambridge by car but more than four hours by public transport. I was smart, though. I bought my train and bus tickets a week early so that it only cost me £22.

Here is what happened that day.

11.04	Train from Cambridge to Birmingham. Productive two hours, working on my laptop for my dissertation.
13.45	Arrived in Birmingham New Street station. Walked to Birmingham Moor Street Station
14.20	Train from Birmingham to Solihull
14.45	Bus from Solihull to meeting location (I was so lucky! The bus only comes every hour and the trip is half an hour so I arrived in time for the 15.30 start time.
15.50	Meeting starts late.
17.45	Meeting runs an hour over time. As I leap on the bus back to Solihull station, I realise that I’m not going to make it in time for my 18.25 train from Birmingham back to Cambridge.
16.15	The helpful man at the Solihull ticket office tells me that I will have to buy a new train ticket to Cambridge for £38.50 (A$96). I realise I can go to Oxford for half that price. With five minutes before the Oxford train departs, I try to buy the ticket. The card machine will not accept my bank card. I am forced to use my Australian credit card — foreign transaction fees 🙁
18.25	I get on the train in time.
19.40	I arrive in Oxford. I walk slowly to Damjan’s place. A day of walking in heels is painful. I make in time for Damjan’s birthday — hooray!

It turned out to be an expensive adventure. I wasted a train ticket from Solihull to Birmingham and Birmingham to Cambridge. I had to buy a bus ticket from Oxford back to Cambridge. I needed a new toothbrush, clothes, and a pair of shoes (the heels were not a long-term walking proposition). But I had a nice unscheduled holiday. Damjan had Melbourne friends over, we went punting and also had a birthday celebration.

Now I am very far behind my dissertation schedule. If I don’t post as frequently, this is a good sign for my research.

“This will be interesting,” Alex said, when he walked into the kitchen.

I swallowed my toast. “What?”

“I ordered the scanner from Amazon last night and they guarantee delivery by one o’clock today. I looked it up with the parcel tracking and it’s in Scotland.”

“You paid for express delivery?”

“Yes. I’m leaving for Norway tomorrow. I need to scan my books today.”

I looked at my watch. “It’s 10 o’clock! Scotland to Cambridge in three hours? No way.” I shook my head incredulously.

“They’ve guaranteed it, Joan. They’ve given their word. If it doesn’t get here by one, I get my delivery fee back.”

“Wow. This will be interesting… If it comes at two, will you still try to get a refund?”

“Of course,” Alex smiled. “A promise is a promise. One o’clock.”

“Well. Good luck to them, I say.”

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang.

One day while I was at the Cambridge town centre, an Asian man waved me down.

‘Excuse me, are you Chinese?’

‘Oh! Yes.’ Then I remembered that maybe I wasn’t. ‘I mean, no. Well, sort of.’ Ah, an interesting problem that I have often pondered…

He looked so alarmed and disappointed that I snapped out of my reverie to say in Chinese, ‘But I can speak Mandarin.’

He responded in Chinese. ‘Do you know where there is a Chinese food shop?’

I, myself, was heading to the Asian groceries on Mill Road. ‘There are a few down that way. They’re about ten minutes’ walk away.’

‘Ten minutes?! Are there any closer ones?’

‘Erm…’ [What was that word? Oh, I can use another one, I’ll use ‘groceries’] ‘Did you want groceries?’

‘No… (something something) …my wife is over there and wants to eat Chinese food.’

‘A restaurant?’ I guessed. Phew! This was hard work.

‘Yes! Is there one nearby?’

I immediately thought of the Ugly Duckling, the first Chinese restaurant I had visited in Cambridge. The food was good enough, although expensive. It was kind of tricky to explain where it was, so I said, ‘There’s a map over there. Let’s go have a look at it.’

We crossed the road and stood in front of the big tourist map. ‘So you keep going up this road, which is just there, and when you get to the round-shaped church, you turn left and it’s just there. There’s a Thai restaurant there, too.’

He repeated my instructions and once I nodded, he went back to his party.

EXAMINER’S COMMENTS
Good performance with minimal linguistic awkwardness. Some unconventional phrases. ‘Round shaped church’ was described as ‘circle church’ but the point was understood and clarified with visual aids. However, the closest suitable restaurant was actually Jinling Noodle Bar on Peas Hill. It is cheaper and tastier than Ugly Duckling.

Comprehension: B
Oral: B+
Content: D

OVERALL MARK: C+