True story..
I reserve a seat on my morning train because the service is so packed it is usually standing room only.
If I don't reserve a seat I'd be waiting all day for a train where I can sit down. My commute is already over 1hr 45mins on a good day so I don't have the time to hang around like that.
9/10 times the crush of people boarding the train, combined with an already packed carriage means that I have to elbow myself past the rabble to get to my seat, but then there's always somebody chancing it and sitting in it hoping I never turn up.
So after the discomfort of getting to the seat, there's always my grimacing delivery of "sorry but seat 23 is mine". I show them the reservation card and they eventually get up looking at me with scowling eyes.
This week took the biscuit. It wasn't a pregnant woman, old person, or disabled person, but a man of faith.
I thought the guy looked fairly well dressed for a Vicar. He apologised and stood up smiling, but I thought nothing more of it once he was standing in the aisle pressed up against the sweaty commuters staring into their iPhones.
When I told my wife about it in the evening, she stood in shock when I described he was oldish, mostly bald, wearing a purple dog collar, and a large golden crucifix
She started going through Google images and I very quickly identified him.
He is only a Bishop! A fairly prominent one too that I'm convinced was on his way to the House of Lords.
Am I doomed? a marked man?... you know.. up there? <points>
I reserve a seat on my morning train because the service is so packed it is usually standing room only.
If I don't reserve a seat I'd be waiting all day for a train where I can sit down. My commute is already over 1hr 45mins on a good day so I don't have the time to hang around like that.
9/10 times the crush of people boarding the train, combined with an already packed carriage means that I have to elbow myself past the rabble to get to my seat, but then there's always somebody chancing it and sitting in it hoping I never turn up.
So after the discomfort of getting to the seat, there's always my grimacing delivery of "sorry but seat 23 is mine". I show them the reservation card and they eventually get up looking at me with scowling eyes.
This week took the biscuit. It wasn't a pregnant woman, old person, or disabled person, but a man of faith.
I thought the guy looked fairly well dressed for a Vicar. He apologised and stood up smiling, but I thought nothing more of it once he was standing in the aisle pressed up against the sweaty commuters staring into their iPhones.
When I told my wife about it in the evening, she stood in shock when I described he was oldish, mostly bald, wearing a purple dog collar, and a large golden crucifix
She started going through Google images and I very quickly identified him.
He is only a Bishop! A fairly prominent one too that I'm convinced was on his way to the House of Lords.
Am I doomed? a marked man?... you know.. up there? <points>
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