Do you see what I see? (Sunday)

Sat on the train trundling back into normality was a profoundly depressing experience. Leaving the Edinborough Festival vibe way behind us. The night before had been great fun, we'd watched the winner of the Perrier* award bust out some moves right after he'd won. His name was Phil Nichol and me and my lady saw him last year in Glastonbury where we thought he was awesome. Energy alone drove his performance on Saturday. It was good to see.

Now we sat listening to inane dance music being played out of some dimwit's phone. The new trick at the moment is to take an old 80's tune. Then speed up the voice so it sounds like the singer is on helium and whack a trance beat onto it. Rubbish. This halfwit didn't seem to think so. Why share the music with everyone else? This wasn't a joyful expression of art, like the kind of thing we'd just seen in Edniburger. In this case it was an agressive display. There was nothing to it other than that.

The people looked more and more desperate and sad as we neared our destination: normality.

A compact post holiday blues experience.

One question, why when there are people getting off the train do some d#ckheads think it's possible to board the train? Simple physics, let alone basic etiquette, dictates you wait for everyone to get off. At what point did this rule get superceeded? When will they add a new rule? I think the new rule should be that you can legally t#at anyone in the face who tries to get on the train while people are getting off. That would have cheered me up a bit as I came down from the best holiday I've had in living memory.


*Now called something different. Not sure what.


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