The sketchy budget I had devised for gettin' back to London was very delicate and did not include buyin' a train ticket. So, I played the Forrest Gump card...it was the only one I had.
Of course...I don't sound like a baboon on cough syrup...I have an actual Southern accent.
"Sir I don't know what I was thankin'...I juss I didn' realize...I come up 'ere for what little money I had left...I kant buy anotha ticket...the Army'll be lookin' for me and if I don't get back..."
"Just relax...relax son..where are you from?"
"Yes sir, Tupelo...what'm I gunna dooo?"
I was off.
The only thing I remember from the train ride back was seeing some kids on a platform hauling around hurling gear...I thought that was neat (I can't imagine that tykes are actually allowed to beat one another half to death like that...maybe it was field hockey or something...but it's a better memory if it's hurling...so hurling it is). Anyway, I got back to Dublin too late to catch the ferry, but I was prepared for that. I went straight to the first cab I saw and spoke to the driver...
"Where's the cheapest place to find a bed brother?"
I thanked him and started walkin that way. Sure enough I got a bottom bunk in a basement for 5 pounds. Once downstais, I sat on the bed for a minute or two while my wallet got hotter and hotter...and started tryin to work one more night on the town into my budget.
If I caught the early ferry the next day I could be at Heathrow by supper time and with any luck I'd be on my way back to Germany at least by dinner time the next day...hopefully...maybe. I didn't need a whole 25pounds for that...and besides when was I gonna be in Ireland again. I had spent two or three nights in Dublin the week before and I knew wouldn't have to spend much of my own money anyway.
I didn't make the early ferry the next day...