Of course by the time you read this I will no longer be on the train. I hope I will no longer be on the train.
When I arrived at the station this morning there was the stench of death, the delicately detached air of a hopeless situation. Desultory groups of commuters were moping about whinging. The 7:01 had been cancelled.
Ice on the line apparently. Apparently a train broke down on the fast London line because of icy conditions. Ice? It is possibly the mildest day of the year so far, a crisp, sunny, ice-less Spring morning. I would have worn shorts if I wasn't working.
Ah well, I won't complain, a break in the mundane commuting rigmarole is always welcome. Yeah right. Basically what they are saying is that a decrepit, fag-packet-of-a-train broke down because of a splash of cold water from a puddle, and the South East has ground to a halt.
I caught the following train, an old man sat opposite me. He had a huge beard and an even bigger laptop. One rule of thumb is that the bigger the beard, the bigger the laptop. Another rule of thumb is that the older the man, the bigger the laptop. It's a tenable theory anyway, old men LOVE huge laptops. I guess they have a warped sense of perception. To them, their huge laptops are actually tiny, ultra-portable devices. If you're gonna lug a laptop around of that size why not just drag a couple of IBM mainframes onto the train.
When I got off the train I marshaled my thoughts. No need to let this spoil my day. My thought stream ran something like this.
Gosh, I can't wait for another coffee, and what do I have for lunch? Oh yeah, bacon sandwiches, wow I'll bet they'll be gone by 10, and don't I look dapper today, crisp white lightly-striped shirt, finely ironed (thanks to lovely wife), dark pinstriped trousers, I love these trousers, wait, what the dickens is that? Toothpaste?
There's only one place on a man's dark trousers where, at all costs, he does not want to get toothpaste. I couldn't exactly clean myself there and then, I had to get another train. The train I'm on now. I shuffled onto the train embarrassed beyond belief, doing my best to subtly hold my coat and bag in a strategic position.
And here I am, standing in the packed vestibule area, busting for a wee with toothpaste on my crotch. The man next to me is attempting to use his laptop standing up, twisted over it like a crab, the cacophonous tapping is driving me mad. A lady nearby has a coffee which is making me CRAVE. No, don't think of coffee right now, with a bladder like a lead zeppelin that would be suicidal. The last thing I need is a bladder malfunction. Not on a crowded train.
If I ever make if off this train I will do the following, in this exact order:
1) Go to the toilet
2) Clean my trousers
3) Get myself a coffee
If I don't make it off the train I'll post this from my Blackberry device and you'll never hear from me again, I'll be wasting away in a stinky mess somewhere outside of London.