Today was an interesting day for the trip. Have you ever read the book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? Today was a bit like our version of it. That isn’t to say that there weren’t some good parts too. In fact there were some very good parts. But the story doesn’t start there.
The story of today begins with Libby and Steven getting up bright and early to take a train to Cambridge. They had frantically found a place to stay the day before, deciding that Cambridge would be very interesting to see. They did not have internet at the time, so they hadn’t been able to do any research; they just chose the first place that popped up and would answer the phone.
So, Libby and Steven got up early, ate a quick breakfast at their hostel, and headed off to the underground. They successfully navigated their way to the train station, where they bought tickets for the trip to Cambridge. They took a short train ride over to the main station in London, and then settled in for the comfortable hour-long ride. The ride went wonderfully, with Libby and Steven talking, posting things on the internet with their new internet card, and enjoying the scenery.
When they got to Cambridge itself, however, things began to take a turn for the worse. You see, one of the things they hadn’t been able to get prior to booking their room were directions to the place they were staying. They knew how important directions were though, so they had looked them up on the train ride and written them down. They followed their directions faithfully, even taking a bus for a large chunk of the trip to shorten it. They were still tired from the previous day, and their backpacks were very heavy. They were soon on the street that they were looking for, and merrily set off looking for what promised to be a very cute bed and breakfast.
This quickly saw the house numbers on the houses (1, 2, 3 4…), and looked at their address to see what house number they were staying at. To their horror, they realized that the house they were looking for was 710! But not to worry, they thought. That merely meant they needed to walk seven blocks. Poor Libby and Steven were used to the way house numbers worked in the United States. There, the numbers were sometimes based on distance, so if you went seven hundred feet, your house number would be 700. Sometimes they also changed depending on the block. If you lived on the seventh block, you might have the house number of 710. But never, never, were houses numbered like they were in England. In England, Steven and Libby still had to walk past another 706 houses. So they set on their way. They walked and they walked but they saw no street signs, and soon they became very worried that perhaps they were going in the wrong direction. But then a very nice American stopped to ask them for directions. He happened to have a map with him. Steven and Libby told him where we were going, and he told them that they were very lost. He was going to the opposite side of town from where Steven and Libby were going. Since Steven and Libby had ran into him, they must have gotten lost and wandered in exactly the wrong direction. A closer examination of the map, however, showed that perhaps Libby and Steven were on the right path, and the nice man instead was extremely lost. So they parted ways with the now embarrassed nice man, who began heading back in the other direction.
Steven and Libby continued walking. By now, fatigue, hunger, and agitation had begun to set in. Libby was not delighted in Steven’s RIDICULOUS idea of renting a car, and Steven was not pleased with Libby’s RUDE remarks about his capabilities of driving in this foreign land.
Finally, after passing another several hundred houses and walking close to three miles, they made it to their bed and breakfast, which was conveniently located behind a bus stop. There they found themselves in a mini oasis, with a pleasant English couple that marveled at their long walk. “At last!” they thought, “Our day must surely get better now!” And so it did, at least for a little while. They put their packs down, enjoyed the cool air of the bed and breakfast, and once refreshed, set back out to Cambridge. Of course, this time they took a bus.
Libby and Steven found that Cambridge was amazing, and was like everything they had ever dreamed it to be. The city was full of gorgeous colleges, bookshops, restaurants and the typical college town buzz. They feasted on a delicious meal typical of the region, a fisherman’s pie and bangers and mash. They toured the famous King’s College and wandered through a park. They even took a nap in one of the gardens, resting their heads on their packs and gazing up at the sky. (This also gave them the opportunity to observe that while the Germans enjoy making out at public monuments, the English seem to prefer public parks.)
Deciding at last that it was time to head back, Libby and Steven made their way to the bus station. Buses, they had found, are a little different than they were in Germany. For one thing, the buses aren’t quite as new. That isn’t really a problem; they still work well and are clean. But it does mean that the buses don’t have handy screens telling you what stops they go to, or a voice announcing where you are at each stop. Because of this, Libby and Steven decided to ask the bus drivers if the bus would go where they wanted.
The driver of the bus they wanted assured them, “Sure, I stop at the cemetery on New Market Street. Just press the button when we get near!”
“Perfect,” they thought. “Our No Good, Very Bad Day is gone!”
But then, despite the bright “Stopping” sign glowing at the front of the bus, they passed right by the cemetery. They also passed right by the shopping center, the roundabout, the business center, and finally the edge of town. A fellow traveler on the bus noticed their alarm at this, and said, “Oi, were you trying to stop back there? You’re in for it now, we won’t stop until the next town!”
The bus driver had forgotten that he was supposed to stop. He hadn’t even paid attention to the alarm asking him to stop. He had just driven merrily on his way. When he finally stopped at the next town, Steven and Libby asked him what had happened. He had no answer, and could only say “I’ll go back there in three hours.”
So, our travelers were left standing on the side of the road, quite literally in the middle of nowhere, with only a signpost for company. But that was no problem, they thought, as the next bus would surely come in fifteen minutes and take them back. Except no bus came. Thirty minutes later, no bus had come. Finally, they used Libby’s brand new phone to call bus information. They were told that no buses would come for another two hours! By this point, Steven and Libby were more than a little upset. Libby may have started to cry, and Steven may have had some unkind things to say about British bus drivers. Libby resolutely began walking towards town, while Steven pulled out her cell phone to call the owners of their bed and breakfast. Thankfully, the owners were Nice People. They were horrified by what had happened on the bus, and drove all the way out to pick up our weary travelers.
At long last, Steven and Libby reached their Bed and Breakfast. They thanked the owners profusely, and took a nice long nap. And finally, the day got better. They read their books in the peaceful garden. They wrote down some of what happened to them. And Libby even got to call her family and talk for a while. The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day was over.

Signing off,
Tired Steven and Exhausted Lib
Question of the day: Too tired to think of one.