It wasn't a very promising day. Thea and F were tired and so was I. But it's hard to be uncheered when a little cycle ride into the library looks like this:
Makes me very glad that I live in picturesque York!
Then while we were looking at books, Ian texted to tell us that the Flying Scotsman was steaming from London to York and was due to arrive at lunchtime. So we hot footed it down to the station and joined one million other people (mainly retired gentlemen) to await its arrival. We managed to talk ourselves to the front of the crowd (the children smiled and chatted nicely to the aforementioned gentlemen) and then waitied patiently while the Flying Scotsman was held up by trespassers on the line desperate to get the best photo of it in full steam. Ian, connected to the twitter and perched at the train watching space a little further down the line kept us (and our new-found grandfathers) updated as to its progress.
Eventually, an hour and a half late, it glided almost silently into the station in a total anticlimax.