My send off from Bolton was just as pleasant as the time I spent there. It also confirmed that some claimant lawyers really do fit a stereotype and are unpleasant creatures. To properly capture the experience, I will have to start from the beginning of the end of my time in Bolton. While this may, I admit, be somewhat tedious, I think it's necessary properly to describe the situation. And for my own cathartic purposes!
Finally, after four long weeks (thankfully I didn't spend all of them in Bolton!) my work matter finished at Thursday lunchtime. It was with some excitement and pleasure that I walked out of the building, took a breath of fresh air and waved goodbye to the Hot Diggedy Dog Stand. I did, unfortunately, then make the mistake of eating some of Bolton's finest cuisine - a choice that wrecked havoc on my stomach for the next 24 hours. But that aside, it was shaping up to be a wonderful afternoon.
I collected my luggage from the hotel (a rather large suitcase, bag of files and G's laptop) and made my way via taxi to the train station. Once at the train station, I expertly manoeuvred all of my luggage into the crowded train to Manchester. On my train was the claimant's solicitor. We politely chatted during the journey, and together watched some toddlers pretending to smoke their parents cigarettes, as the parents watched them proudly. Claimant Solicitor and I then got off the train together at Manchester Piccadilly to change onto the train to London.
Together, Claimant Solicitor and I approached the escalator we had to take to get to our correct platform. I heaved my case, laptop and bag of files onto the escalator. It was there that disaster stuck. Unbeknownst to me, my suitcase was straddling two steps of the escalator. As the escalator rose, and the steps separated out, my suitcase went flying down the stairs. So did G's laptop and my bag of files. Worst of all, I too went flying, and was pinned to the escalator steps by my suitcase. It was a rather packed escalator, and like dominos the old lady, two children and scary looking man behind me also went flying. Luckily children bounce, and the old lady was cushioned by their fall. The scary man was a bit worse off, with me and my suitcase on top of him, also pinning him to the steps. The escalator then seemed to be moving very quickly, and I started to panic. Luckily (I thought at the time) Claimant Solicitor was standing next to me, and I looked up, expecting to see him extend a hand and pull me to my feet. Instead, I saw he had turned his head and was pulling an "I don't know the crazy lady who just knocked you over" expression. I actually said in a sad little voice "help me!" at which point, realising his cover was blown, he proceeded to apologise to everyone on the escalator, while leaving me lying there. Thankfully, by this point, the two children had bounced up and helped the old lady up, who then lifted my case and helped me to my feet, enabling scary man to escape. She also collected G's (now rather dented) laptop. After apologising and thanking everyone profusely, I shuffled off to my train as quickly as I could to get away from scary man.
Once I got to the London train, I made a point of sitting in a different carriage from Claimant Solicitor.
I suppose it could have been worse - at least Claimant Solicitor didn't start handing out his business cards to the old lady, two children and scary man on the escalator.
Finally, after four long weeks (thankfully I didn't spend all of them in Bolton!) my work matter finished at Thursday lunchtime. It was with some excitement and pleasure that I walked out of the building, took a breath of fresh air and waved goodbye to the Hot Diggedy Dog Stand. I did, unfortunately, then make the mistake of eating some of Bolton's finest cuisine - a choice that wrecked havoc on my stomach for the next 24 hours. But that aside, it was shaping up to be a wonderful afternoon.
I collected my luggage from the hotel (a rather large suitcase, bag of files and G's laptop) and made my way via taxi to the train station. Once at the train station, I expertly manoeuvred all of my luggage into the crowded train to Manchester. On my train was the claimant's solicitor. We politely chatted during the journey, and together watched some toddlers pretending to smoke their parents cigarettes, as the parents watched them proudly. Claimant Solicitor and I then got off the train together at Manchester Piccadilly to change onto the train to London.
Together, Claimant Solicitor and I approached the escalator we had to take to get to our correct platform. I heaved my case, laptop and bag of files onto the escalator. It was there that disaster stuck. Unbeknownst to me, my suitcase was straddling two steps of the escalator. As the escalator rose, and the steps separated out, my suitcase went flying down the stairs. So did G's laptop and my bag of files. Worst of all, I too went flying, and was pinned to the escalator steps by my suitcase. It was a rather packed escalator, and like dominos the old lady, two children and scary looking man behind me also went flying. Luckily children bounce, and the old lady was cushioned by their fall. The scary man was a bit worse off, with me and my suitcase on top of him, also pinning him to the steps. The escalator then seemed to be moving very quickly, and I started to panic. Luckily (I thought at the time) Claimant Solicitor was standing next to me, and I looked up, expecting to see him extend a hand and pull me to my feet. Instead, I saw he had turned his head and was pulling an "I don't know the crazy lady who just knocked you over" expression. I actually said in a sad little voice "help me!" at which point, realising his cover was blown, he proceeded to apologise to everyone on the escalator, while leaving me lying there. Thankfully, by this point, the two children had bounced up and helped the old lady up, who then lifted my case and helped me to my feet, enabling scary man to escape. She also collected G's (now rather dented) laptop. After apologising and thanking everyone profusely, I shuffled off to my train as quickly as I could to get away from scary man.
Once I got to the London train, I made a point of sitting in a different carriage from Claimant Solicitor.
I suppose it could have been worse - at least Claimant Solicitor didn't start handing out his business cards to the old lady, two children and scary man on the escalator.
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