Forwards and occasionally sidewards – everyday musings of life

I noticed the box of ‘bits’ extracted from the Fiat’s interior sitting in the hall as I quietly slipped out of the house at 6:30 this morning for today’s trip to London. Even Karen had been amazed by how many unopened packets of tissues, tubes of lip salve, hair grips, coats and, inevitably, shoes I’d discovered.

The Fiat looked clean and shiny as the early morning sun came up. I’m sure the Toyota’s front camera winked at me as I walked past.

Then I was off to the station. Thankfully, the train arrived on time and the carriages were in their usual order: A (the quiet coach) at the back and coach M at the front. I can only presume they are sequenced from London. Occasionally the train guards mix the letters up and reorder them to keep passengers on their toes. Either the person in charge of the lettering struggles with the alphabet on those days, or they’ve had a bad day.

I prefer to travel in the Quiet Coach, or as I call it, the ‘Quieter Coach’, as everyone’s interpretation of quiet differs greatly. I accept snoring, heavy breathing and the occasional fart in the quiet coach, but not the smell, although it’s amusing to watch other travellers’ reactions.

In the quiet coach of the 06:40 train to Paddington this morning we were treated to a traveller sat behind me enjoying their breakfast.

First came the unzipping and then zipping up of numerous bags, followed by cutlery being dropped onto the table and the clanking of bowls being shuffled around.

I’m not sure what happened next, but it sounded like a kettle boiling and a frying pan warming up. I had an image of a Full English being cooked up in row 15/16.

I never smelt the fry-up or heard any toast pop up from a USB toaster, but quietness descended on the coach for a full 30 minutes while I assumed breakfast was being served.

As the train pulled into Paddington I was tempted to walk past row 15/16 on my way out of the carriage, but preferred to leave with the image of what I’d heard.

However, I did check the carriage letter as I walked down the platform, to see if I was actually in coach A or if I’d mistakenly got in the catering coach.