A man starts singing to himself, he's not in tune, he probably was many years back, at the end of the day though he can go home and carry a nice ditty, maybe hum along to the Corrie theme but might struggle at Eastenders.
The naysayers have consulted their mobile devices to get the transport low-down, they seem satisfied with the end result. Basically they get nothing. As ever South Eastern are falling over themselves to deliver up to date travel information. At the end of (and the beginning of) the day it's no good. They muddle through, 33 parts ignorance, 33 parts stupidity and 34 parts pure bloody English resolve. I don't care if we're stuck here, marooned in a snow swept carriage in the middle of nowhere, if the staff can get to Tesco, then I'm sure they could have walked somewhere more hospitable. Did they go outside for sex? The Mountain Goats reply to Yo La Tengo with a song embracing nature and a tune which doesn't encourage discourse about how they got their name, like it's not important.
Remember when the only telephone ringing was the one at home? No because you've never had it so good. It's kind of like a blackberry or another well known mobile device but it costs around a pound for a couple of months of fun. It's a spiral bound notebook.
Now you know how it ends, get on the train when you can, don't leave people dangling about that stuff - if we could we'd all stay in hotels in central London, goddamn it, we would, wouldn't you?
Train's good, not much delay once you get out of Charing Cross, my travelling companions are less concerned about the outcome of this evening - glad that's OK then, gawd bless'em.
