Homeward Bound

Finishing work late has it’s advantages namely a nice quiet train and a relaxing journey home. Unfortunately someone had forgotten to tell the three “ladies wot lunch” who got on and proceeded to shriek, giggle and bitch through the entire journey home. Even as I got off the train, headed up the stairs and the train started pulling out of the station I could still hear them, cackling away.

Normally that kind of thing doesn’t bother me too much except that, after my response to the first barrage of screaming hysterics was to turn my iPod up to at least dull the noise they were generating (I fear the only way I could have drowned them out altogether would be to rip my own ears off, something I did fleetingly consider), I was asked told to turn “that noise down” by one of them. I don’t think my response of “Well… I could” registered as sarcasm. Needless to say I didn’t do as I was told and could feel the glares as we continued our journey. It was all I could do to stop myself pointedly giving them the finger, although looking back, I wish I had. Isn’t there something very primaeval but that action. Probably because I associate it with anger or rage. Hmmm.

Where was I?? Ohh yes, on the train.

The other ‘excitement’ on the train was when someone tried to steal my bag. Well steal isn’t technically accurate, let me explain. I usually put my bag up on the rack so it is out of the road. However whilst I had my head buried in a book, and my iPod turned up, someone mistakenly thought that the guy that had been sitting opposite me had just gotten off the train without his bag. First thing I knew about it was when the conductor tapped me on the shoulder and asked “is this yours mate?”. Phew.

Note to self: Screaming wummin can be expensive but never drown them out. Someone might nick your bag.

Mind you, it was nice to come home to a good steak, a bottle of wine and a loving wife. It wasn’t St.Valentine’s day again, was it?

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