Tale of the kindly parking inspector

Yesterday as I walked across the crossing to work, a car screamed up and a woman leapt out and rushed into the station. The driver, who turned out to be a parking inspector, told me that when she’d got out of the train at the previous stop, her 8 year old daughter hadn’t made it in time and had been left on the train. He’d driven her down to our station where a family had taken the missing child under their wing. Mother and daughter had been tearfully reunited by the time I reached the waiting room.
As I was preparing to leave work, a man with two huge sticks got out of the train. They turned out not to be wizards staffs but fire sticks and he was looking for a nice big piece of parkland to practice his fire stick spinning in. Thinking he’d terrify the golfers I directed him to a nearby oval. Such a useful Jane.