Ode to British trains

In which the humble train elicits an ode to it’s awfulness.

I start this standing on a cold platform just outside Coventry waiting with my fellow passengers for an already crowded train. In the proverbial choice I’m in the hard place.

For the past few days I’ve been able to work from the kitchen table while in keep an eye on a poorly Mrs G, the commute downstairs was stress bare but now I’m back to joining the hordes. I know this isn’t fun because I look up and can see ten faces and none of them are smiling.

Yet we all throw ourselves onto the 0714, and it is not devoid of moments of beauty.

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