When I was 12 years old and living in Yorkshire, I was invited by a schoolfriend who had relocated with his family to Kent to visit them. I told my father I would be all right to go on my own and he trusted me. I took a train to Kings Cross, a tube (never been on one before) to Charing Cross, and a train to Maidstone. I did not know that the train split there. I was on the wrong half. After a few stations I realised my mistake, and got off. The stationmaster took pity on me, and asked his friend to drive me to the correct station, which he did and refused to accept my offer of my pocket money as a reward. I look back on it now and can envisage all the awful things that might have happened. Five years later I took the train to London, one way, and stayed. Now retired, living in Kent, 3 daughters, 14 grandchildren, and 16 greatgrandchildren. Now THAT'S brave!