I’m on the train to Edinburgh, blogging via the handy WordPress app on the iPhone, Mogwai in my ears, and having already done some work.
We’re somewhere near Pitlochry, it’s pitch black outside, and it’s not even 8am.
So why do the two women across the carriage from me feel the need to be ploughing through a bottle of Bucks Fizz?
Honestly, alcohol at this hour would churn my stomach. Mind you, simply being awake at this hour churns my stomach, but that’s not my point.
Why do some people find it impossible to undertake a train journey without enough booze to feed a street party?
I’ve seen obnoxious Weegies tucking into pre-breakfast cans of Special, hen parties and gangs of day-tripping women drinking wine before most folk have had their tea, and even on one occasion a Highland League football referee set about no less than twenty bottles of post-match beer, aided by a belly that indicated significantly greater ability at drinking than refereeing.
Oilies fresh from a month of rig-based abstinence can be excused their tin or two of Export, and I don’t deny having had the occasional drink myself if coming home very late at night after a long day away.
But to automatically compute that train journey equals lots of drink indicates either an addiction, extreme claustrophobia or an inability to entertain oneself.
Train journeys (metaphorically) fly by for me, as I always have work, a book and my iPhone. But maybe I am just jaded. Or smug. Or both.
Now, I wonder if there’s a Buck Fizz app on the iPhone…?