We set off from south west London leaving a sad Mrs Shed and headed north into the city. London Underground as usual did its best to prevent us from getting to Euston. We finally reached the London terminus to be advised that our train was now running almost an hour late!
The station was full of drunk Manchester fans and several families heading north. We finally boarded the crowded train along a very smelly tramp who insisted on spilling an entire carton of coleslaw by the toilets? Fortunately this vagabond removed himself at Preston.
Carlisle is an interesting town. It's shopping area is much like any other regional town. However it's nightlife I suspect involves several pints of lager, a Stanley knife, a pair of dodgy heels and a pneumatic girlfriend, heavily tattooed and orange.
Having walked across town, we ate close to our guest house and have turned in early for the night.