â€œI just did” is, in my experience, a proportional response. This holds a special pleasure when directed at some pompous ass who truly believes every Englishmanâ€™s home is his castle. Itâ€™s almost charity work to disabuse them of the notion that house deeds rarely extend to the public road.
I had a similar experience today. Chiltern Railways â€œcyclists charter” treats bike carrying in the same vein as murdering your fellow passengers with a blunt axe. Messy and bad for business â€“ especially at peak times. Therefore I had little option but to haul cold, dark butt out of bed at 6am in the morning so as not to suffer the fate of a possible eviction at Amersham.
Wind back a bit here. Why was I doing this? So I could swap
And I hear you ask again Why the hell was I doing this; replacing one mountain bike with another? Long story which inevitably will be blog-food in due course.
As the 6:35 rolled out of Stoke Mandeville, Iâ€™d cunningly wedged the bike into the disabled area. The train was almost deserted and short of suffering some potential early bird wheelchair action, I was perfectly positioned for some quality snoozing.
What Iâ€™d failed to recognise was a. this is the slow train which stops at every station, siding and seemingly where people stick out an opportunistic hand and b. there is a critical mass of sad buggers travelling that early. Past Amersham, itâ€™s standing room only and lustful glances are being cast at the foldable seats nailed shut by forceful insertion of a mountain bike.