My train journey to and from work certainly can be lively. It’s been a continual learning experience since last August and I feel I’ve made great strides - I have come to accept the continuous and unceasing lateness of the trains. I have learnt to merely shake my head at the lack of any reason ever being given for this (“The train is running late because it has not yet left Liverpool Street” is not a reason guys). The fact that the trains themselves seem to be have been designated ‘safe spliff’ zones for the under 16s raises merely a shrug.

However even I was a bit pissed off last night when someone threw a large jagged rock through the train window missing me by 1 seat.

I mean I don’t want to look like a big girl’s blouse here. After all I’ve learnt to hardly hear the heroin dealers expressing their displeasure at their recalcitrant debtors; the more generally addressed imprecations of the schizophrenics – well that’s care in the community for you, and on one occasion I was threatened with being doused in petrol and set on fire by a man wielding a ball hammer. Maybe we should ignore that last occasion – he was, after all, clearly in the right if I had indeed been ‘looking at his friend’ as he so clearly believed.

I wonder what it’s like on the late trains when everyone’s been drinking?