Train-ing

I am sitting with my laptop on my lap (radiation is probably killing my ovaries) on the train in the darkness, plugged into the Charge Point, it’s a strange sensation. It feels as if I am part of this mechanical snake.  I am but a carnivorous human feeding off the electrical by-product. My bank of 4-seats and special office desk just for me, O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! No children on my catalytic caterpillar today, normality has been resumed I chortle in my joy, inside my head of course.

I am pleased to divulge I managed to board the correct train without having missed it as yesterday, I ran from the main road, tried to fly up three flights of stairs and down another – mental note to begin gym training as part of New Year’s Resolutions – and met with my most excellent monstrosity. 1615 was the scheduled departure and at 1615 I was perched on the platform’s edge pressing the 1960s rubbishy silver button of the transporter to no avail. I was greeted with silence and static movement. Such scorn for 10 seconds of lateness I say, I was met with a steely glare and a mechanical hurricane as its destined beloved froze me half to death from the other side of the platform.

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