SUNDAY MORNING

It was a Sunday morning and we got up early. We had arranged to take the children to London to visit my parents.
We showered, had breakfast and while I made some sandwiches to take with us, Sally got the children ready.
The train left at 8.20, so at eight o’clock we left the house to walk to the village station.
Just as we were going out of the door, the phone rang.
It was my mother calling to say that my father had caught a cold and to ask if we could postpone our trip.
Of course I agreed, but the children were very disappointed.
In the end, Sally suggested taking the train to another town about a hundred kilometres away,
where we could go to the fun-fair.
We set off for the station rather late but unfortunately when we finally got to the station, the train was not there.
There was nothing we could do as the next train didn’t leave until midday, so we went home.
We had to buy ice-cream to keep the children quiet.
That evening we heard on the news that there was an accident at the fun-fair and twenty-five people had been killed.
It was the luckiest escape we have ever had