So i finished my last post on something of a cliffhanger. Not much of one but I thought i would give it a try. Truth is The posting was getting a little long and i needed to finish it just to keep it within the bounds of reasonableness.

To recap for those that are new here, I have arrived in Vancouver for a rendezvous in an unfamiliar restaurant in an unfamiliar city. I had refused offers of help and insisted I could make it to said restaurant of my own volition and on public transport.

I had a currency situation unfolding however. I had borrowed $30 Canadian Dollars that my mother had left over from her last visit here. For some reason the ticket machine was having none of it. It snatched in my notes and then spat them out again. I tried all combinations of upside down and back to front but all to no avail. It crossed my mind at that point that may be the notes were so old they had ceased to become legal tender, They were in pretty pristine condition however so it seemed unlikely

However I had received them from a Mother who still has ingredients in her cupboards priced in pounds shillings and pence i.e. pre 1971!

I had nothing else left to do but try my credit card that had so resoundly been refused in the pay phone . To my huge relief it was accepted this time and instead of money this time the ticket machine spat tickets. I am not sure what I would done. I suppose i could have gone back to the terminal and exchanged my money for proper money.

No one really knew that I had made the flight. I have missed one before through being an idiot. I had "checked in" via facebook that i had made it as far as London but after that it had gone a bit quiet. Eventually someone would have come to see if I was there and i may have gotten some change to phone the numbers I had at my disposal. My Mobile was not "Roaming" in this neck of the woods.

So off I jolly well went. No need to keep an eye out for my stop - it was the end of the line.

Here is what i would have seen had I been at the front and it had been daylight.

So there you have it. That was what I really came for, I love all that stuff, you know trains and shit!

The journey was interesting though for people reasons. My first real contact with Canadians on their own turf for over 20 years. What sort of people use the Skytrain at 8pm on a Friday night? the answer was just the same sort of people that do in Newcastle or anywhere else I have been on a Friday night. Some people just trying to get home but largely young people (by that i mean in their twenties) just out for a bit of a laugh and a few drinks and maybe a husband. That last bit was directed at a group of ladies who were travelling as a pack and I couldn't help thinking that they were single, looking but not desperate just available. They were not dressed to kill but well dressed. They had made an effort. In Newcastle dressing up for a night out means body glitter, miniskirt, vest, ridiculously high heels and a Redbull and vodka in hand at all times.

Maybe I was wrong but it pleased me to think this.

Basically it was a Friday night and everyone was about to let off a bit steam.

I had spied out a few landmarks on Google Earth so that i knew I was heading in the right direction. I knew if I passed a bar called the Lamplighter Pub I was near. I had even entertained the idea of diving in for a quick drink before girding my loins to meet the family. One look at the outside said that this was not a pub to try and wrestle my luggage through. It was heaving with shimmering bodies and the bouncers outside had a look that said "On your way Son!"

I marched on, by this time parched for a drink. Sure enough the Old Spaghetti Factory hove into view and I immediately spotted my family member all sat round with remnants of an enjoyed meal besides them. At the same instant I spotted them they spotted me.

There was much relief that it had all worked and we were all together. Rather predictable my Mum was the most convinced I would cock it up in some sort of Monumental fashion but she has prior knowledge so she was entitled to that opinion I suppose.

We left the restaurant and repaired to a local bar where I sampled my first taste of quality Canadian beer and we all swapped tales of our comings and goings.

I crashed into bed in our swanky hotel at a not unreasonable local hour after a lifetime of trains, planes and automobiles.