The drunk on the train kept touching the man sat opposite, making his point. Probably not earth shattering stuff but I couldn’t hear because I was thankfully sat in the other half of the carriage.
It was an uncomfortable scene – the other passenger mostly stared straight ahead, hoping to ignore the drunk and not to be drawn into conversation. In vain for the poor unfortunate.
I knew from earlier on in the buffet that the drunk was on his way home to Edinburgh, his wife having left him. He didn’t want to leave Lincoln because he quite liked living there. If he could find another woman…
He carried no luggage other than a beaten up old guitar which he started to play on the train. Again I couldn’t hear it but the drunk had to stop anyway as the conductor came to check everyone’s tickets.
The conductor was held in conversation whilst a ticket was sought, and ultimately firmly presented aloft for stamping.
The train arrived at Newark and the drunk went up the stairs to cross to the other platform, still talking.