Morning awesomeness

I have just witnessed something awesome. An extraordinarily inebriated Scouser just got on the train (it's 9am). He was making a fuss, talking incomprehensible and loud bollocks. It was disturbing enough that people were actually looking around. This is England. If somebody took a dump in the aisle, they would ignore it so as not to make a fuss. So, if people were acknowledging the behaviour, you know it was pretty disruptive. The conductor did his best to calm the guy, but to no avail.

He then staggered down the aisle with his open bottle of Cobra and proceeded to sit on the guy sitting at the table opposite me. No idea why, just chose a rather well-built chap and sat on him.

Well-built chap authoritatively told Drunky not to sit on him. When he didn't listen, well-built chap popped him into an arm lock behind his back, walked him into the vestibule, and pushed him up against the door and had a word. Conductor went to sort it out, but drunky was suddenly calm. He even came over and managed a sort of garbled apology to the other guy at the table. Yeehaw. That dude deserves a merit badge. Drunky now has a welcoming committee of cops awaiting him at our final destination.

Another nutter

There is another academic who has joined Train Buddy and me in the ranks of the daily long haul commuter. He used to sleep in our work city during the week. For some incomprehensible reason (lovely family, I think), he has decided to do the daily slog too. Until I come up with something better, he will be called Train Buddy v 2.0 (TB2). Train Buddy the 1st has been taking the insanely early train for a while now, eschewing sleep for a peaceful journey. I simultaneously admire him for this and think he's mental.

Yesterday, TB2 and I were comparing notes about fellow passengers. Turns out he also has been perpetually annoyed by the catty management-speak group and the bulldog retail rep. I think they will each merit an entry soon.

In the meantime, welcome TB2!

The salon

Got an early train home today and found myself inside a mobile beauty parlour. There was a girl across the aisle giving herself a full manicure, complete with three coats of toxic fumes. I tried not to watch where the cuticle clippings and file dust went [shudder].

The girl opposite was extremely pretty, with a very natural and fresh look. She spent the next hour painting, lining and blending. Then she teased her previously sleek dark hair to twice its original volume. By the time she had finished, she just looked like an average girl that had to paint herself a pretty face. Wonder if her daddy knows she keeps about £100 of makeup hidden in her bag to put on when she leaves the house.

Maybe I drink too much coffee

I popped into the chain coffee place I often frequent on the way to the station*. The guy behind the counter greeted me with a warm smile and he chatted away for a couple of minutes. I was just thinking that I'd better order my drink so that I could get a move on when he handed me a steaming hot cup of life-sustaining liquid.

It was like the planets had aligned and all was right with the world. After that, the train was on time with four carriages. I'm sitting opposite the very entertaining prep school kids, and I can barely hear Management-speak Wanker blathering away behind me. Thanks, coffee guy!

*Apologies to my most favourite barista in the whole world. I feel like I'm cheating on you, but you're not open at 7am. Hell, sometimes you're not even open at 10.

Strange bedfellows

The poor man across the aisle from me has drawn an unfortunate lot this evening. Due to the- erm- rotund nature of the man beside him, he has been forced to overhang his binderful of legal documentation into the aisle in order to work. This leaves him open to constant collisions from the overly keen trolley guy who has clearly not met his daily quota of KitKat and lager sales.

It wouldn't have been so bad for him if Señor Rotundo had not been snoring at a decibel level that would require unionised workers to have been issued with protective equipment. Señor Rotundo is wearing a wedding ring. Either his wife is deaf or he sleeps on the sofa.

Working Guy caught my astonished stare and asked if I had a marking pen. Seemed a shame not to draw on Señor Rotundo's face, really. Alas, we were not properly equipped so Working Guy had to amuse himself by rolling cigarettes with his twitching fingers. Another example of a quiet evening spent devising ways of smothering the guy snoring away contendly next to you...

Call for inventors

A week into resuming my regularly scheduled commute, and I have a cold. Again. This is at least 4 since New Year 2010. Since I'm not a sickly person and my family have escaped most of the bugs, I can only assume it can be blamed on the giant rolling germ capsules on rails where I spend so many hours.

Here's where the lovely, creative People of the Internet come in. Let's have a collective brainstorm for some sort of personal apparatus that wards off viruses while on planes or trains. I'm not interested in the face masks reminiscent of SARS in China. Either something discreet that others can't see, or perhaps something so freaking outlandish/stylish that it becomes as ubiquitous as the iPod.

Unfortunately, there's no money for R&D, but you'd have my undying gratitude and a far smaller quantity of snotty tissues in the bin.

Suggestions/drawings/whatever in comments or via email.

The late train

This post was going to be called, "The Last Train", but it seemed a bit ominous when I haven't reached home yet.

I spent the day in London and caught the last train back, which was delayed because of a broken train on the line. I was apprehensive about the journey, fully expecting it to be chock full of weirdos. Unfortunately, the most remarkable passengers were a mildly obnoxious band of Uni-age wannabe rockers sporting faux fur and glam rock haircuts. There have to be weirdos on the late train. It's practically a rule.

Oh no. That leaves only one thing.The weirdo must be me.