The perils of train travel and vestibules.

In the back of my notebook I drew a chart, and I keep a tally of all the times my train is late, or arrives late at it's destination, or is cancelled. I don't know why I'm doing this, but at the end of a year I'll get a nice bar chart out of it.

Work was a bit daunting today, and I was late home again, so am feeling a bit frazzled. I'm getting to know the characters on the train: there is Sweating Man - he, well, sweats. A lot. Like big drops of it splashing from his nose to the table. I've seen him twice, and he looks like Harry Potter, aged 20, down to the black hair, specs and too-big clothes. There is Sinus Man. Sinus Man snorts constantly in that deep back-of-the-nasal passages way that makes me want to hit him with a brick. And why do all the Virgin train managers refer to the vestibule area as the 'vestible'? And, more to the point, why have Virgin trains suddenly picked on this obscure, dying word and plastered it all over their trains? Most people have no idea what a vestibule is anymore. It just seems an odd decision. I don't mind, because I like the word and will look forward to using in it conversation, perhaps tomorrow, because tomorrow is National Orgasm Day (not sure who organised it, mind you). Vestibule. Let's do it in the vestibule area, darling! Or...not.

I think tomorrow should be National Orgasm Drabble Day. Any takers?