An elderly and dapperly dressed gentleman reads his Financial Times opposite me. The train is on time, the heating is actually on, I am seated and no-one is prattling on their mobile phones. It's nearly civilised going to work.
Unfortunately the train is only made up of four carriages instead of the usual eight and the carriage I'm in is getting more and more packed. Big coated people block the light and I am assaulted by elbows and arms as the unlucky crowd in.
As the train pulls up at the last station, the elderly man opposite me folds his FT neatly, unzips his briefcase that has been lying on his lap, slips the paper in and sits back.
There is another elderly gentleman standing very close to the FT man. He has put all his belongings on the rack above so he could stand with some comfort in the packed train. This man leans over to retrieve his things on the rack. The train jolts. We all shudder. Something falls down from and hits the FT man on the head.
The standing man is flustered and apologises profusely.
The FT man looks up at him, glaring and yells "That's very careless of you dropping things on my head!"
They both stare at each other.
I notice the offending item that has bounced off his head and on the floor. I lean over to pick it up and hand it to the standing man who thanks me.
"A shoe horn! You dropped a shoe horn on my head! How careless!"
Everyone is standing up and eager to leave the train. It's like nothing has happened.
Tonight, the cat ate a lot of cooked chicken. A lot. She is snoring away on the waterproof pillow covers. She has her third chemo session tomorrow. I hope it doesn't snow too much.