Yesterday I trotted off to a Terry Pratchett signing at the big new shiny Forbidden Planet, and I must say it was big and shiny, new too. In fact the day started earlier than that, I can tell you're all curious as to what happened so here goes! Well, actually I'll skip past the tales of eating breakfast and late trains and move straight onto the events that were a little less tedious.

Upon my arrival at Liverpool Street station I noticed a strange noise, almost like a siren. As I made my way to the tube platforms I noticed they were shuttered off and a big sign saying "Emergency" was flashing. Using my wits and cunning I was able to deduce there was a slight problem with my travel plans. A quick chat with the cake man revealed smoke had been spotted somewhere and everything was shutdown indefinitely. More discussion with the friendly baker revealed the Central Line was still open, hurrah! So I scurried over to the Top Secret Central Line Entrance along with everyone else, this led to a crowded train. At some point in the journey I glanced at my watch only to recoil in horror when it said I was running about 75 minutes late. After quickly running through possible options for where the time had gone it slowly dawned on me that I still hadn't set my watch back an hour thanks to my ability to completely ignore the hour hand.

We now fast-forward a few hours, be grateful. Wandering down Shaftesbury Avenue I noticed a big blue alien type thingie in a shop window, now some people might react to this but not I. Oh no, I kept walking until I saw Jack Skellington lurking behind a pillar. Indeed, we had nearly walked right past the world's largest sci-if and cult entertainment megastore (it has 1 mile of shelving you know).

Since we were early for the signing browsing of the shelves did happen. A mild dose of concern crept in when we spotted posters advertising many signings, just not the one we were actually there for, but while Cathy spent money a queue started to develop. Our intrepid heros joined aforementioned queue at just the right time to be standing next to the aforementioned Jack Skellington.

Apparently I was wearing my helpful face yesterday; now the little old lady who wanted to confirm we were queueing for the Pratchett signing seemed happy with my helpful reply. The man who asked why we were all queueing seemed to regret picking me; it started well as I informed him of the purpose, however he didn't seem too enthusiastic when I started praising the book, and by the time I was telling him to buy a copy he had a look of mild terror etched onto his face as he tried desperately to flee.

Soon we were allowed to wait inside, where I was designated the head of the main queue. With nothing much else to do I wibbled at Cathy for a while; this led to an interesting problem. She was behind me, and we all know that the best wibbling occurs face to face, so I turned to face her. now with a busy shop floor behind me I kept noticing figures appearing behind me, this unsettled me. During one particular moment of being unsettled, which may or may not have involved excessive movement on my behalf, Cathy pointed over my shoulder. Being polite I joined her in marvelling at the tube of posters until she informed me that the esteemed author himself had just wandered by, and had apparently watched me being unsettled. Always nice to act crazy and scare these people I find.

Eventually things started moving and we shuffled around to meet the man himself. Much to my amusement we had everything signed and were out of the shop five minutes before the signing was due to start. Anyway, food was eaten and we'll fast forward again to the trip home.

All started well as the train arrived just as I glided onto the platform. I boarded at a sensible place and settled back to enjoy the ride. Suddenly the driver announced that the train wasn't going all the way to Stratford, where I was heading, but would instead stop a few stations short. Was this a problem that all trains would suffer or was it restricted to this one? Why do they never tell you anything useful? A quick look at the tube map revealed that the best alternate route involved changing trains at the last station, and the only other one was a couple of stations ahead. Resigned to my fate I figured I should jump off at the only option I now had to see if I could catch a following train, which thankfully I could.

Now all that long and rambling entry must stand for something more than just an account of a day you might wonder, and you'd be correct. Now a couple of weekends ago Cathy and I went to the Science Museum; this was the weekend where two trains fell off their tracks. Yesterday we met up again and there were many security/safety alerts all over the network. Given that we keep trying to meet in the same spot which is only a couple of stops from Liverpool Street station I have yet to travel there directly, instead I have to hop form train to train trying to find a route that's running. I'm thinking we should start publishing travel arrangements so others can be forewarned about days of major chaos on the tube.