I rush to the old slam door train on platform 10 of Waterloo station. I should really wait and get a faster train, but I've just completed a 14 hour day and I'm not thinking straight.
I have to run; the rail companies always insist on putting the smoking and first class carriages at the front of the train. There's a free seat, I open the door and dive in.
I have a seat to myself. Across from me is an attractive older woman concentrating on her book. She doesn't acknowledge my entry, or even glance up. Across the aisle, 2 men are engaged in an animated conversation. They are talking in a language I do not recognise - it may be Arabic. Opposite them are a couple in their Sixties. They are probably back from a day trip to London; She has a rucksack he has some shopping bags. I wonder if the rucksack has a flask half full of cold tea.
A fat business man has thrown open the door and squeezed through it. He has a huge briefcase and laptop case, which almost decapitates both myself and the woman opposite me - who again remains oblivious to the world outside her book.
The fat man heaves his cases to the luggage rack and sits down. I expect him to open a huge newspaper but he opens a paperback and starts reading; so much for stereotypes.
The train pulls away - only 90 minutes till I am home.