Train tales

This guy sat next to me on the train last night. Business suit, briefcase, Financial Times - you know the type. He got on at Waterloo and got off at Ascot, which is about a dozen stops and roughly an hour. Throughout the journey he sniffed. He sniffed every 5 seconds or so, it was like a metronome. Occasionally he cleared his throat, but sniffing was the principal noise he made. When he stood to get off, he reached into his inside pocket, withdrew a pale blue handkerchief and blew his nose. It was almost like he was saving up the whole journey for a big blow. If he sits next to me again I shall have to offer him a tissue.

At Ascot, they shut the rear four coaches on the train because the subsequent station platforms are too short for an 8 carriage train. Therefore at Ascot there is always a slight delay as the guard herds people off the closing carriages onto the front four. I used the time to get my coat on and pack my gadgets in my bag. This youth got on and sat in the seat vacated by the sniffer. As the train pulled off I noticed an unpleasant odour permeating from the youth. It was that 'this item of clothing has been worn far too often and needs a damn good wash' kind of smell. Being a snob and a coward, I mentally belittled him and said nothing. Thankfully, he got off at the next stop. As we continued our journey I realised that the smell was still present and was in fact coming from my own jacket.