w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

No, I haven’t got the Judith’s * - though I admit, I can be a pain in the ar5e sometimes.

Things have been a tad busy lately – hence the erratic postings – and yesterday lunchtime I found myself on another train, heading East to another meeting. In an empty carriage.

Then she got on, and sat opposite me. In an empty carriage. And I said nothing.

A minute later, behind me and to my left, a mad/drunken male Irish voice started to part-harangue, part-sing to, part-swear at her. And I said nothing.

Apart from shooting him one withering glance, which even I understood to say “Just shut the fcuk up!” she then promptly ignored him, to the point where she curled up on two seats and fell asleep. And I said nothing.

He continued his vociferous vocal into my left ear (hence, rearache) through station after station. And I said nothing.

I considered getting off and joining another carriage, but then it dawned on me, she’d chosen me as a tacit ‘protector’ and had deliberately chosen the opposite seat. So I sat still and said nothing.

Then, blissfully, the voice behind me stopped and the woman jumped up off the seat and proceeded to chase him down the platform?

And the other passengers looked up, breathed a collective sigh, and said nothing.

* Judith’s = Judith Chalmers = Farmers = Farmer Giles = Piles