Prom preparations started nearly a week ago. Nails were Thursday; hair was Friday.
Friday Prom (middle daughter) nearly didn’t happen. All was good, hair was done, lunch was eaten, and we were on the train home. The train stopped as the train manager announced a major incident.
A fire had closed our home station; the electric lines were down, fire fighters in attendance. We were 4 hours from prom, a 60-minute train journey from home and a make-up appointment (with very glamorous office manager Paige). The train was indefinitely delayed.
The ladies next to us, who had spoken loudly and with great enthusiasm about their visit to the M&S food hall (very big and very nice), their sandwich choices (bacon, even though she had had it for breakfast, and chicken) and pudding (Victoria Sponge and popcorn) held their food-filled bags closer to their chests. My daughter was ashen – we remained calm. Storm Doris didn’t beat us. We would negotiate our way around the fire raging between prom and us.
We were held at a station close to the home of Uncle JB (my bro). No matter his car has seen better days and its water needs refilling every mile. It was prom night and he was more than willing to drive us home. Paige and her mum, Ana, sorted extended childcare for her boys; we were all set. We’d be cutting it fine but we would make prom.
All of this was organised within the short time it took for the train to restart and bring us home. Total journey delay 15 minutes. Reports of a raging inferno had been greatly exaggerated.
My daughter smiled; colour returned to the white knuckles of our neighbours.
We made it to prom and my girl looked gorgeous.