Post-match train travel

  
You never know what little event in life will prompt a post after months of, er, nothing. I’ve had lots of thoughts about lots of stuff of course, but the time and effort demanded for blogging on more serious happenings is these days a bit overwhelming.

But this evening I find myself on a train heading north on which all alcohol has been banned. I know this for a fact because I’ve had two emails in as many days telling me that no alcohol would be permitted, and I wouldn’t be allowed to board if I was drunk. So there.

I duly boarded stone-cold sober and found a seat in the quiet carriage. Minutes later three loud inebriated males (how had they passed security?) sat at “my” table and one promptly farted. I debated for a split second staying put and pretending to ignore it out of politeness, and before I could rationally process a decision, a life-preserving instinct hurriedly got me up. I announced the table was all theirs, and found somewhere else to sit well out of reach of the putrid atmosphere.

Many minutes of high jinks and laughter followed and then they started scuffling with phones. One asked a lady across the aisle if she had a charger? She shook her hand and said no. Her five year old quickly piped up to correct her. “Yes you have, Mummy!” Mummy scowled, handed it over, and mumbled that she was getting off in twenty minutes.

Next, a serious of terrifying announcements about alcohol, abuse, inebriation, bag searches and penalties. We are reassured that the train is full of police who will be prowling the length of the train the entire journey, checking out drunken revellers and maintaining order. It seems they are equipped with inbuilt video recorders, and they will not be hesitating to capture us all on camera.

Goodness me. Just a Saturday night returning North on the east coast line after a sporting event. But I’m pleased to announce they now seem to all be falling asleep. Bless. 

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