I have decided that Wiltshire is a long-forgotten part of the evil Saruman's realm, and that there is some kind of subsidiary orc/troll/gnome spawning facility here, probably in Trowbridge.
Today I have mostly been on the train.
For what seems like days and days and days and days. Surrounded by slack-jawed, vacant-eyed, potato-headed, mouth-breathing meatbags. Eating pasties, the bastards.
Today's additional travel adventure meant we were delayed by 35 minutes at Bristol Parkway while the British Transport Police dealt with an "incident" on the train.
Fuck knows what. Maybe it was a teenager who was listening to his iPod too loudly. Or a commuter who was downloading unsuitable material onto his BlackBerry. I have no idea. They didn't tell us any of the interesting details.
So, we were squashed in like ugly, overweight sardines for an extra half an hour or more, staring at each others' newspapers and books, pretending we weren't.
God I hate trains.