Yes, at last the ubiquitous cry goes up from the groover – but not over the mobile phone airwaves, not words from my mouth, but from my typewriter as I blaze across the land in a wireless internet equipped GNER supertrain.
A mixed bag of people on trains on a Sunday night: Salesman and executives heading out to clients in the provinces for the week. Northern visitors and students returning from energetic weekends, faces jaded from high jinx and chemical abuse. Deviants like myself, head buried in laptops trying to control our universe and get a jump on the new week by firing some sporadic emails off into the ether. Brash hectoring blazer types in first class snipping off the ends of cigars for when we get there (of course this train is fiercely non-smoking) and shouting into the bluetooth headsets about stocks and shares.
I have a busy day tomorrow. A day no doubt full of grief and recriminations (on both sides). But it is a day I feel I can get through. Four sharp meetings, a smart suit and the right line of breeze should see me through. Then it’s home on the bullet train again, some more emails, a sausage, mash and leek tea waiting at home and then at last sweet maroot and rest. It all seems so easy, but only time will tell…….