En Francais

Regular readers will know that I like to have a quiet kip on the train home in the evening.

I’m not the only one – people who stay awake are a bit of a minority, and when I started this job, m’chum Brian – who’d just retired from a job commuting to the Nation’s Capital – told me “you’re not a proper train-riding commuter person until you’ve woken up one stop beyond where you wanted to get off.”

I’ve never yet achieved that, but the other night I thought I’d gone one better: I woke up as the train was pulling into a station, and all the passengers around me, sorting their bags ready to get off, were speaking French.

OK, it was only Winchester and they were exchange students, but it gave me a nasty moment.

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