15th March 2007

15th March 2007
It has been a while since I last had much excitement on the train home. It used to be a regular source of mild entertainment, albeit not always for me. There was the time I was assaulted at Tottenham Hale for example. A distant memory. The impromptu wake with the beautiful girl and the bottle whisky on the midnight train to Cambridge was almost as long ago, but remains fresh in my mind! And whilst I am regularily sought out by drunk Scotsmen on the Underground even this hadn't happened for a while. It was back to normal service on Tuesday evening though. I should have been a bit more alert really. The can of Carlsberg Extra Strong that was kicked out of the carriage onto the platform as I waited to board the train was a slight giveaway and there was a distinct whiff of beer in the atmosphere. Nevertheless, in I went, the doors closed and the singing began. "Is this the way to Amarillo" warbled a bedraggled looking old man with a distinctly Scottish accent belying the floppy green hat with a shamrock on it that he was wearing. Inevitably he chose me - of all the people in the carriage - to ask to dance with him. I was very restrained and declined resolutely. This caused him to launch into a bizarre tirade against insider dealers and as I left him at Kings Cross he was yelling "There's only one Nick Leeson" at the top of his voice as if he knew about the part I played in Barings' downfall.

Brief Hen update. She excelled herself this week missing the first part of one of her GCSE exams ( appropriately enough, a drama practical ). I can’t bring myself to tell you what caused this fairly crucial slip up. Oh, all right…..polo practice.