EASTGATE CLOCK, CHESTER

“Is there a doctor on the train?” No! Come here now, you must be jokin'. Haven't I just done the baby on the ferry. They can't be serious! “I repeat, if there's a doctor on the train, would they kindly make themselves known to the nearest steward or go up to the First Class area.”

There I am, in Second Class, with two nurses, Mary and Clare, and the pair of them saying— “Go on Colm. They are looking for a doctor.”

At this stage, I have already broken out into a nervous sweat, as I weigh up the chances of there being an acute case of syphilis, gonorrhoea, or warts up in First Class, needing my urgent attention.

Anyway, up I go into the hallowed halls of First Class. There's a …