40703 – 17:15 Friday 19th December

40703

Today saw the last day of commuting for 2014 but not the last train travel day as I’ve got my excursion to Cornwall for Christmas to endure next week. But that will be in 1st Class so be ready to tune in for some free coffee high-jinks as the BGC and Son set off on a hilarious rail-trip which promises pretty much to be a remake of the 1976 classic Likely Lads film.

So anyway I was on the 17:15 to Carmarthen and I took the opportunity to stand in Carriage K again and claim another ½ buffet ½ 1st carriage for the book in the name of 40703.

But the real excitement happened on the 18:12 Turbo train from Reading to home. Now just for the record, I want to state that I never do any of the following:

• Put my bag on the seat.
• Put my coat on the seat.
• Sit on the aisle seat to block the window seat.
• Sit on an angle trying to make out my legs are too long.

I know that @Slowpokesam has a photo of me with my feet on a seat somewhere but in my defence that was after a long heavy days “shopping” in Bath and I was feeling extremely tired and emotional at the time.

Anyway I got about the Turbo and sat on a window seat whilst all four of the seats around me were filled with folk doing any number of the above examples of rude behaviour. One bloke had his legs so wide apart it was almost as if he was indicating he had testicles the size of space hoppers.

So then this other chaps gets on, looks around for the seat and plonks himself next to me, which isn’t entirely unexpected as obviously compared to the other twats around me am I the easy option….although again I have to point out that there was hardly a shortage of spare seats elsewhere.
But he doesn’t just plonk himself down, he shuffles and squeezes and itches closer and wiggles and eventually says (in an Aussie accent) “Hey mate, can ya not move any close to the window?”

Now I’m hardly the Slimcea girl but I’m also not Giant Haystacks and what really riled me was this guy was just picking on the easiest target in the carriage. Yeah let’s not ask the bloke with the scars and the beanie hat to move his bag or the woman with crutches to shuffle over to the window seat, no let’s pick on little chubby speccy boy and try to flex our antipodean muscles.

Well anyway he soon recognised a friend and left me in peace to read the copy of Angling Mail I’d found and generally lick my wounds. But he got off at Theale and was wearing a red anorak. So if you know him just let him know he’s a tit and he made me feel like shit…….

Thank fuck it was the Christmas Double Issue