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I DID do something useful one day. A train, pulled by a steam engine, of course, was standing at the platform. The guard, probably long gone now, God bless him, had gone into the loo. The train started to pull away, dead on time. but old 'Mouthandtrousers', as I later heard was his nickname, was still in the loo. At the sound of the engine, and the startled cry of a staff member, the guard emerged from the toilet, pulling up his trousers and loudly shouting 'stop'! I could see he was never going to make it, encumbered as he was by a huge belly and with pants at half mast, so I galloped, cavalry-like to the guard's van, jumped aboard, and spun the metal wheel vigorously to apply the brake. The old chap was even more embarrassed than I was when I lost my shoe.
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