When Thomas and the Fat Controller returned from London, they arrived at Brendam Docks on a barge called Dilly and set off for Knapford Station. People clapped and cheered as they approached while the engines whistled and honked.

"Welcome back, Thomas!" called Nia. "How was it?"

"It was great!" Thomas peeped.

"He can tell you all about it later," said the Fat Controller, "but now, we must get back to work." And he hurried away to his Office.

Gordon was there too, waiting to leave. "Well, Thomas, did you enjoy arriving at St. Pancras then?"

"Where's that?" asked Nia.

"It's what they call London Station now," Gordon frowned.

"Actually," said Thomas, "the Station we arrived at was called Victoria."

Gordon spluttered. "What?! Not another new name!" he groaned. "Why can't they just make up their minds already?" And he fumed away.

When Gordon got back to Tidmouth Sheds, he was still cross. "What's all this about Station names?" asked Nia.

"I can't understand it," huffed Gordon. "Every time I hear about London Station, they call it something else. Why can't they just call it King's Cross like they used to?"

"Why are you so upset about this, Gordon?" asked Rebecca.

"I think I can explain that." The Fat Controller had arrived. "You see, it all started a long time ago when Gordon had the chance to visit London again."

And this is the story the Fat Controller told them.

Lots of people travel to the Island of Sodor and they usually arrived by sea, by road or by rail. Engines from the Mainland bring their passengers to Vicarstown for the Fat Controllers engines to collect, but sometimes, they have the chance to visit Sodor. Some of them even pull their trains to the other end of the Main Line.

One day, Gordon was talking to one of the visiting engines. "When I was young," he said, "I remember going to London. Do you know the place? The Station's called King's Cross."

"King's Cross?!" snorted the visiting engine. "London's Euston. Everybody knows that."

"Rubbish," said Duck, "London's Paddington. I know; I worked there."

The next morning, the engines were still arguing, even after the visitor had left. "Stop arguing," James cut in. "You make me tired. You're both agreed about something anyway?"

"What's that?" huffed Duck.

"London's not Euston," laughed James. "Now be quiet."

Gordon rolled away, still grumbling. "I'm sure it's King's Cross. I'll go and prove it." But that was easier said than done.

Gordon knew he had to stop at Vicarstown for another engine to take his Express to the Mainland and carry on to London. If I didn't stop, he thought, I could go to London.

One day, Gordon ran right through the Station. Another time, he tried to start before the Fireman could uncouple the coaches. He tried all sorts of tricks, but it was no good. Oh dear, he thought sadly, I'll never get there.

One day, Gordon pulled the Express to Vicarstown as usual. His Fireman uncoupled the coaches, and he ran onto another line to wait until it was time to start back.

Everyone waited…and waited…but the engine from the Mainland didn't come. Then, a porter ran over and spoke to Gordon's Driver. "The Inspector's on the platform. He wants to see you."

The Driver climbed down from the cab and came back in a few minutes looking excited. "Hullo," said the Fireman, "what's happened?"

"The engine for the Express turned over when it was coming out of the Yard. Nothing else can come in or out. They want us to take the train to London and the Fat Controller said we could do it. How's that?"

"Fine," said the Fireman, "we'll show them what the Fat Controller's engines can do."

"Come on!" said Gordon. "Let's go!" He rolled quickly over the points and backed onto the train. "Come on, come on!" he puffed to the coaches, "Comeoncomeoncomeon!"

"We're going to town, we're going to town!" sang the coaches.

Gordon found that London was a long way away. "Never mind," he said. "I like a good long run to stretch my wheels."

The next morning, the Stationmaster came into the Fat Controller's Office looking excited. "Excuse me, Sir, have you seen the news?"

"Not yet. Why?"

"Well, just look at this, Sir."

The Fat Controller took the newspaper. "Good gracious me!" he said. "There's Gordon! Headlines too! 'Famous Engine at London Station. Police Called to Control Crowds." The Fat Controller smiled and read on.

Gordon returned the next day. The Fat Controller spoke to his Driver and Fireman. "I see you had a good welcome in London."

"We certainly did, Sir," said the Driver. "We signed autographs till our arms ached."

"And Gordon had his photograph taken from so many directions at once," added the Fireman, "that he didn't know which way to look."

"Good," smiled the Fat Controller, "I expect he enjoyed himself, didn't you, Gordon?"

"No, Sir, I didn't."

"Why ever not?"

"London's all wrong," answered Gordon sadly. "They've changed it. It isn't King's Cross anymore. It's St. Pancras."

"The truth is, Gordon," said the Fat Controller, "I never told you that you that all of you were right."

"What kind of an answer is that?" scoffed Gordon.

"You see, in big cities, like London, they usually have lots of stations, not just one, and all of those Stations are still in London today: King's Cross, St. Pancras, Euston, Paddington and Victoria."

That's right," added Thomas. "When I was in New York City, I learned that it has two big Stations and one of them is the biggest station in the world. Also, the Subway, which runs underground, has more than four-hundred Stations!"

The Fat Controller smiled. "Quite right, Thomas and, speaking of London and traveling, it's time we told everyone about our own adventure on the Mainland."

And that's just what they did.