In four months of commuting I'd begun to think the 'me first' culture had really taken root on the railways.
Official proof, if it were needed, this week confirmed our suspicion that Oxfordshire commuters suffer the sloppiest timekeeping in Britain, with half of all national delays occurring in Oxfordshire. Most of them, I reckon, between Didcot and Oxford. But today, there was a little crumb of hope, something to cheer my weary soul and stoke the belief that this 'sicknote' network might soon be able to get me there with my sanity intact, if not on entirely on time.
The ticket collector actually enforced the no mobiles rule in the quiet coach.
A few moments out of Paddington, with a full carriage and the reek of soaked blazers, a woman got out her ridiculous gadget and proceeded to yell down it in the manner of a Dom Jolly sketch.
A quick despairing question here — why, why, why do people crank up the volume to such a pitch when they're on their mobiles? I'm aware of no data that suggests low level phone signals fry the ear drum and render the person on the other end of the call stone deaf.
But no sooner had Madam got out her phone when the ticket inspector barked at her:
"You can't use your mobile in the quiet coach. Sorry."
This apparently clarified the rules for her. I can only surmise she is extremely, chronically and debilitatingly short sighted, and can't see the large, crossed-out cell phone that is emblazoned on every head-rest beside the words 'Quiet coach'.
This is what I want to believe.
Truth is, she's probably just got an aversion to common courtesy. She's been injected with selfish serum on boarding. The rules don't apply. The vestibules and four other carriages where phone calls are permitted are inconveniently placed for her. And it's only a quick call.
Which gets her no further than waiting until she can see the caller and speak without the interruption of bad reception. Think about it the next time you're about to take that call.
More often than not I hear people rambling on about a lot of vague nonsense, before admitting, 'we'd better have a proper chat about this when I get to the office'.
As much as we're supposed to give the impression of being contactable, the truth is we simply can't attend to work while in transit, what with constant announcements and signal black-spots.
If you can't see sense, at least heed the operator's message.
At every stop, the driver announces that coach A is a quiet zone: 'please show respect to fellow passengers in this carriage.'
Indeed. There are four other carriages where the blighters are afforded no such consideration. In the vast majority of our rail stock, selfishness rules.
So would it be too much to ask for a quiet little corner?