I work in Maidenhead and live in Windsor, and that means either cycling to work, or getting the train. Since cycling the 16 mile round trip usually means spending at least the next two days with a bag of frozen peas down my trousers easing the angry swelling and coaxing everything back into life again, I'm most often on the train, cursing the scum that seem to inhabit our railways: commuters who stand in front of doorways at the platform preventing people from getting off; selfish morons who decide that maybe 6pm is a great time to go and spend half an hour haggling over a season ticket at the one ticket booth that's open; and announcers saying that they're really terribly sorry about the late arrival of the 17:48 to Paddington, only the wrong kind of pigeon shat on the line.







