An unlucky man turned up at my station on Friday. He’d taken the wrong train and found himself on the opposite side of the city from his intended destination. He’d wandered around in confusion for 7 minutes which was long enough to miss the return train to the city. 20 minutes is a long time to wait for the next train when there’s a chill wind driving soft clouds of drizzle across the park, so after some discussion he decided to call a cab. While waiting on telephone hold, he went down to the road to see if he could hail one and I went back to telling people that yes platform 1 is the side for Flinders Street.

Next thing I knew there was an almighty crump. A cab, slowing down to pick up the unlucky man, had been hit in the rear passenger door by a tram and there was shouting. No one was hurt, but now everyone had to wait for the police to attend. The unlucky man came back to the station just in time for the city train. I was almost expecting the train to break down, but whatever jinx was following him seemed to have been exorcised.

He was good humored about it. “At least you’ll be able to tell the folks at home you met an unlucky man today,” he said. So now I have.

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