After I caught the first train to Edinburgh and arrived 4 minutes before the last train to London. I had to try three ticket machines before one would read my debit card and sprinted across the station with faithful Orange in tow. I made it, with still a minute or two to spare. I was even going into King’s Cross Station, just as I’d dreamed and planned and hoped for.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, before you roll your eyes and shake your heads bemusedly, I would like to tell you that perhaps you are right to laugh. Either way, I don’t really care. The whole way I was exhausted but giddy with delight: I’m going to Hogwarts!!! I thought to myself. And when the train pulled in, I leapt onto the platform (3), eyes and smile wide with anticipation. I looked around me. And my face fell. “It’s so… dirty.“
And it was. But it was still the real thing. I was there! But I was quickly taken over with anxiety that I would miss the train to Oxford, where I was meeting a friend. I had no reason to worry, but I looked wistfully at the sign I saw pointing towards Platforms 9 and 10, which was partially obscured by black tarp that hung there since the platform was partially under construction. I looked, twisted my face in conflicted contemplation, and turned painfully away. That’s right. I turned my back on Platform 9¾. But I will be back. I will.