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Passengers were now suggesting all manner of solutions from
simply getting out and walking to some sort International Rescue
mission, possibly involving Thunderbird 2.

Eventually, the best part of three hours later, with the lights
flickering and the carriage buzzing with the sound of shivering, we
were shaken by a jolt. It was our rescue train to drag us back to
Canterbury.

From there we were taken to Rochester by an exhausted-looking
bus driver. I walked in to the sound of church bells at 4am. Today,
I’m in a type of trance after less than three hours' sleep.

The next time I visit Canterbury I may hire a donkey and try the
medieval method of getting home - it may work out cheaper than a
train ticket.