Train Driver as Angel

I was lifting my bike into the train guards van. I heard a noise. "It can't be anything to do with me, my bike has no loose bits". I walk to the coach. "Hey, I think you might need this!" It is the train driver, he has my pump in his hand. Profuse thanks result.
The guard tells me there will be someone at Retford to open the guards van for me to get my bike. There is not. There are no staff within 100 metres. This is the express non-stop from here to Kings Cross. I shout, no response. Except from the driver, he sees my plight, gets out of his cab, walks to the van, I get my bike. I am thankful once more, he passes the fruit bowl awaiting first class passengers, "fancy an apple?" I accept. A great man, no doubt about it.

I then cycle through the peatlands back to York, the same route as a couple of weeks ago, a great ride. At Epworth I take time to look at the Wesley vicarage. It is pretty amazing that from this small isolated town two brothers created something so big as Methodism. Now it is almost irrelevant to modern life, but back in the day it was of great importance, particularly in this area.