ON the day Rovers played Liverpool, we had a lovely day at Blackpool and were returning home on the 4.45pm train.

Nearing Preston, my disabled son went to answer a call of nature, but for some reason didn't return to his seat. I spoke to the guard who promised to look out for him.

There was no sign of him when I arrived at Blackburn. I was advised to alight and have a word with the station master who in turn said he would make inquiries.

Meanwhile, I sat in the waiting room.

The station was alive with football fans, police and railway officials.

I had to admire the way they worked together -- even the young man who did his rounds collecting the numerous bottles and wastepaper.

In the middle of this was my problem.

After three hours, I was told someone had spotted my son sitting on Preston station.

They questioned him and put him on a train to Blackburn.

He seemed no worse for wear, but I couldn't help thinking it could have been a different story. I was on the point of ringing the police but no need thank God, the station master and the other unknowns who had helped.

MARLENE TALBOT, Oozehead Lane, Blackburn.