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- From: gj@prg.oxford.ac.uk (Craig Shergold)
- Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
- Subject: Electricity smells of burnt pork
- Message-ID: <9301031945.AA29934@prg.ox.ac.uk>
- Date: 3 Jan 93 19:45:01 GMT
- Organization: Caledonia, Sterne and Wilde, Gentlemen at Law
- Lines: 18
- X-Mailer: mail-news 2.0.3
-
- Having spent a good few hours on trains over Christmas, I have decided that
- the reason I really enjoy train travel is that -- like ferries -- they give
- me an unparalleled opportunity to entertain the contemplation of stunning
- exemplars of pulcritudinous muliebrity. For some reason there are more than
- your average expectation of pretty young women on trains. I spent a happy
- month in the summer pretending to be a student again by backpacking -- or
- rather kit-bagging -- around northern Europe and gradually making this
- pleasant discovery.
-
- Buses are not the same. On buses you just get to stare at the backs of the
- heads of the people in front, and if anyone comes to sit next to you it is
- inevitably both unwashed, and the local idiot, complete with Irish Wolfhound.
- On trains, on the other hand, especially travelling late in the evenings,
- there seems to be a half-way decent chance that the pretty girl with the
- tumbling tresses and the sweet smile will ask if anyone is `sitting here'.
-
- It might just be, I suppose, that I am now old and boring-looking enough to
- be the only person that looks as though it would be safe enough to sit near. g
-