The train ground to a halt just before Musselburgh, narrowly missing the blue Golf parked across the line. My first thoughts were of the 2001 Selby train crash and the urgency to get out of the carriage and away from the track. I grabbed my Blackberry and iPhone from the mess of belongings scattered around me. There was no time to hunt for my Mac and SC’s Harris tweed handbag. (Later someone retrieved my Mac for me. It was a relief to regain access to my half-written article for The Electronic Library.)

Moments later a vehicle came screeching down the track. I expected the following south-bound train. In fact it was a car, followed by another one, then a lorry! Severe traffic jams at a roundabout in Portobello had forced a traffic diversion from road to rail.

Somehow I managed the rest of the journey. Although there was no doubt that I had arrived in London (noise, traffic, tall buildings), King’s Cross didn’t look how I remembered it. I stopped someone in the street to ask for directions. “Yes, this is King’s Cross” the lady told me, “but what you have to bear in mind is that King’s Cross is a whole area. It’s more than just the railway station”.

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A series of flash cards showing photos of fast food flew through the air. These appeared in response to questioning about my previous jobs. I had no idea that I’d enjoyed an early career as a waitress in an American-style diner.