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With the sun flashing in my eyes through the trees, I am listening to the polite announcement over the p.a. from the train manager inviting us eat on the long journey south. The day, having started watching late night television before drifting off into deeper thoughts, recommenced with the unwelcome sound of the five thirty alarm. This arrived, as I was about to play a Claptonesk guitar solo in some auditorium at the back of my sub consciousness, guitar in hand and the lights focused on the next expectant movement of my hand, then, beep, beep, beep! A battery driven device ruins my last chance of stardom!
On arriving at the station I failed to admire the elegant Victorian monument that is Huddersfield, not quite contempt for it through familiarity, maybe apathy through necessity! We viewed the blue departure screens knowing we had the choice of the six twenty-seven to Leeds or the six forty-one to Wakefield to connect with our London bound train. For those who have no idea of the price of tickets for travel that time in the morning, it would be the price of a meal for six in a reasonable standard restaurant and a first class ticket is the same as a late deal to Italy, four star from Manchester. However, with forethought, discount deals are available for many trains and the two-hour journey is far more pleasant than the tense trek down one of the concrete arteries that create an artificial blood vein that pulses with vehicles on their daily grind. So remembering Sir Jim's phrase from my youth about the train and the strain we drift speedily southwards.
Needing a shot of caffeine, I am commanded by my wife to obtain a cup of coffee. Whether I should get one for myself or not was not discussed and so I assumed I was not forbidden. Walking on a train doing over a hundred miles an hour can be difficult, the train crews, having vast experience have excellent sea legs and hardly move off balance where as the less frequent traveller apes a cheap drunk as they bounce off the seats and doorways. I hold my breath as the disabled toilet opens as someone is passing and the occupier emerges to narrowly avoid an unfortunate embrace. Having regained composure and had no loss of dignity the passengers go their individual ways. Having reasonable experience of the pitfalls of walking on a moving train, I set off, eyes forward, first checking the rear of my shirt is not causing me embarrassment. Past my fellow passengers in standard class, noticing the business suits, the array
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