For some inexplicable reason, the train was not crowded this morning.
For the entire first hour of the journey, I only had to share my table
for four with one other person. He vacated and was replaced by a liver-
spotted gentleman elegantly turned out in a Barbour coat, tweed
flatcap, cashmere scarf, and subtly manicured nails.
He slid over to the unoccupied half of the table and muttered a Prince
Philipesque string of syllables from which I could just make out,
"bloody computers", "bloody trains", and "what next". From behind his
German dictionary and text, he kept peering over and giving my laptop
the stinkeye. The appearance of my iPhone from my pocket nearly
induced a coronary. He would definitely be a patron of my dining car.
I can't wait until I'm old enough to be offended by the mere existence