Oh, I have a Kentish cow story, too, except this cow had been hit by a train and was quite dead.
Just past six AM, winter, somewhere near Godmersham, we’re sat there, the conductor is saying it could be a while before anyone can come to clear the line… so, this being the days of slam-doors, out bundled a dozen besuited commuters, yours truly included, to manhandle a bloody heavy and rather messy deceased bovine out of the way, and off we went. We were only 20 minutes late into Cannon Street, which is essentially on time for that line.
I’m pretty sure it was the only time anyone on that train actually talked to one another.
Just past six AM, winter, somewhere near Godmersham, we’re sat there, the conductor is saying it could be a while before anyone can come to clear the line… so, this being the days of slam-doors, out bundled a dozen besuited commuters, yours truly included, to manhandle a bloody heavy and rather messy deceased bovine out of the way, and off we went. We were only 20 minutes late into Cannon Street, which is essentially on time for that line.
I’m pretty sure it was the only time anyone on that train actually talked to one another.