I'm in a hurry.
I shouldn't be as I'm a passenger. A passenger on the train. Sitting cramped on a table, my next door neighbours have bruised my ribs and dented my kneecaps in their rush to answer their mobile phones.
"Sorry, sorry" they said. But the damage was done. The girl sitting opposite looked distinctively unimpressed when one of the suited businessmen took the opportunity at a swift glance down her cleavage.
"I'm on the train," said one businessman.
"I'm on the train," said the other. It seems to be the standard topic of conversation.
Why am I in a hurry?
It is so long since I have been on a train, that the wi-fi is no longer free. Well, 15 minutes is, then it's not that far short of a fiver and hour. The question is - is this blog worth a fiver an hour? No don't answer that, please.
It actually makes no difference if the train company charges or not. I remember the last time I used their free wi-fi. After an hour I received a message saying something along the lines that I was a selfish passenger, hogging the airwave, as there were many others on the train who were dying to get on - so Goodbye. And with that it hoofed me off the network and refused to let me back in.
I am about to be turfed out again. There is so much to say. It will have to wait until London. There's funerals, abysmal parking machines, fog and quarry vans and...........
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