“Due to a disruption at the end of the line, this train is now terminated. You must get off at the next stop.”
I locked eyes with my sister. Disruption? Terminated? The car buzzed and passengers looked up from their phones. I was filled with disbelief because it was the second time in three days that an estranged voice through a train intercom had declared our journey over, leaving us once again stranded in the middle of nowhere in England. I mulled over our chances of finding a reliable bus to get us to the next train to get us to another bus that would get us to the final destination of our backpacking trip: Grasmere, William Wordsworth’s home in the Lake District.
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