This time next week, I will be flying westward to begin my grand railway signalling conference tour of Denmark, Sweden, Germany and France, brought to you by the Institution of Railway Signalling Engineers, the excellent grades I got for my Grad Dip and my very generous employer.
My paranoia over thinking I have forgotten something essential that I was supposed to do before my departure finally turned to excitement when I received my friend Anna’s email this morning describing, in detail, the ways to get to her house in Copenhagen. This was the very beginning of the train option:
“You will need to go to Østerport Station. When you walk out of arrivals, you’ll be in a not-so-big hall surrounded by people waving Danish flags. Seriously, it’s like a cult. Walk past these weirdos and keep going straight ahead for, like, less than one minute until the train pictures start appearing…”
The taxi option was somewhat more brief:
“Get in the taxi. Go to B-. Ring my doorbell – it says “D. Tøttrup”.”
The idea of someone living under someone else’s name instantly made me think of Winnie the Pooh who lived under the name of “Sanders”.
Consequently, this was the mental image I got from the Denmark described in Anna’s email:
I can’t wait to find out how wrong I am!