I was about to write about a bus journey from a few days ago, but I may as well write about my current situation.

Sitting on the train. I was sitting nice and cosily in the corner, table to myself, laptop out… all looking good.

“Did you reserve that?” said in a shite Yorkshire accent, where seemingly they only and always emphasise the last word of every sentence.

So, I look up. Her glasses at the tip of her nose, a worn and tattered red/brown coat, and some purple shiteness somewhere in the middle. Her face had found purpose, she lived for these moments, there’s just nothing like being right eh?  Samantha always wanted to be a snob, but she just never quite made it.

“Nah”

I get up; throw my bag to the other side.

“Enjoy my dear friend” I throw in a smile, and some charming hand manoeuvrings. Silence.

So I’m now sat on the other side, not sure what the difference is?

Next, Mrs Slag face and her 6 kids enter the fold –

“There isn’t enough room for all the luggage!” Kids start screaming “this is the WRONG FUCKING train!”, someone’s reservations are doubled up, there’s a pile up of people trying to get passed, “huffs” & “puffs”, I can hear some heated argument about toilets in background? and Mr ticket man is looking for tickets…

Meanwhile, purple shiteness is trying to subtly indicate she doesn’t have enough room. She’s opening her newspaper over and above my laptop, with a few body readjustments and some deep breathing thrown in for good measure.

Where do I find these people?

Anyway, today I have music. Thank God for music. That’s pretty much all you can thank that idiot for. The pain starts to leave.

Although purple shiteness just opened some smelly crisps… I can see some finger licking moments ahead