Yesterday I went to Bristol by train for a conference for the day job. The journey back was hugely unpleasant as we were packed in like sardines and I had a large lady next to me who occupied half of my seat as well as her own. To add to that she clearly had a stinking cold and persisted in sniffing loudly every few seconds. The nasal piercing added to the morbid fascination.
But on the way down, it was early in the morning, 7.15, I was fascinated by my fellow travellers. I realised that I am a) a slob, b)old and c) I don't care. The women on the train were all in a kind of corporate uniform of black skirt suits, knee high boots or high heeled shoes with thick soles that looked hell to wear all day. They all had funky, chunky necklaces and were surgically attached to their mobiles which twinged every few minutes. The men all had laptops and recieved phonecalls in which they discussed what presumably was quite sensitive business and personal information in loud voices for the delectation of the rest of us. Lots of 'well half of me says yes and half of me says no.' 'We should get another quote on the St Andrews hospital job.''Oh, you didn't get a mortgage, what are you going to do?'
Fascinating - what can be so urgent or important at 7.30 in the morning? What jobs do these people have?
In an aside I swear that as we pulled into Cheltenham Spa on the way back I saw Phil Spencer working on a laptop on the platform while he waited for a train.
How I plot my books
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