Just when you though the current prediliction for the fitness obsession couldn't get any worse, I now notice more and more fellow rail travellers arriving at Temple Meads in lycra with pain etched on their faces, dripping with sweat.
That's right - they run from home to the station and proceed to sit and fester in a hot, cramped railway carriage with absolutely no regard for the olfactory senses of those in close proximity to them.
It's bad enough the fact they don't even get changed - I had some bloke's spandex clad packet about 6 inches away at eye level the other day on a busy standing room only service - but the overpowering aroma of sports vomit in the carriage is just downright antisocial.
Haven't they heard of deodorant?
Sod health and fitness.
I'm more likely to be seen trudging along platform 11 with a copy of Health and Efficiency hanging out of my back pocket.
That's right - they run from home to the station and proceed to sit and fester in a hot, cramped railway carriage with absolutely no regard for the olfactory senses of those in close proximity to them.
It's bad enough the fact they don't even get changed - I had some bloke's spandex clad packet about 6 inches away at eye level the other day on a busy standing room only service - but the overpowering aroma of sports vomit in the carriage is just downright antisocial.
Haven't they heard of deodorant?
Sod health and fitness.
I'm more likely to be seen trudging along platform 11 with a copy of Health and Efficiency hanging out of my back pocket.
Comment