Morning. I'll be quiet today - I'm skiving work shortly to go to Sunny Birmingham to get my Mac's screen fixed. Given my recent luck, I'll drop it in front of the train before I get there.
Perhaps it's just touch-screens I break - I've cracked the one on my nasty phone, a piece of (free) junk designed to look just enough like an iPhone to fool the short-sighted, and just different enough to avoid getting sued. Thankfully, my iPod Touch remains intact. For now.
So - off to the Metropolis, then back for teaching at 6 - delightful.
I went fencing in Shrewsbury last night. I was meant to go for dinner with one of my coaches and his family, but ended up sitting on a train between Telford and Oakengates while the local cops chased kids along the track. Quite frankly, I think the steam train shouldn't have stopped for Jenny Agutter and her brothers, and it certainly shouldn't have stopped for these brats. If, as a society, we're going to say that ten-year old children are capable of committing murder and standing trial as adults (like the Bulger murderers), they can bloody well take the consequences of playing on railway lines. Let them play - Darwinism in action.
Alternatively, perhaps children shouldn't be considered capable of moral responsibility for serious crimes?
So anyway, instead of tucking into a fine dinner washed down with the vintage Rioja I'd brought along as my contribution, I stood in a packed and smelly commuter train while assorted little delinquents mooned us. Ah, the romance of the rails.
(My mother was an extra in this film!)