I come to you from an iPad on a train.
This morning Steve and I set off on our last just-the-two-of-us holiday. We considered Barbados, toyed with San Francisco, nearly went for Fiji before deciding on Chester.
Our bags were packed and we hitched a lift to the station with the father-in-law (£10 a day to park at the station? No thank you!). After a brief 5 minutes in the sunshine, we boarded our train. Steve carried our matching cases to the luggage rack while I evicted a squatter from our reserved seats; normally one to feel guilty about such things, even this didn't dent my mood, I mean, I am nearly 7 months pregnant and he was drinking lager at 11am and reading the Daily Sport.
We settled in our seats, made sure our tickets were to hand so as not to delay the ticket inspector when he came and took out our respective books.
Ten minutes passed.
Steve remarked that he was peckish. I brought out the bag of triangle cut cheese sandwiches which he had made this morning.
'Hmmmm', he pondered, 'But it is only 11am, maybe I should wait until 12.'
'We're on holiday', I reasoned, 'And besides, I have pepper sticks as well for later.'
He tucked in.
Two minutes passed.
Steve stopped mid bite.
'Dear God, what the hell has happened to us?'
'What?' I replied, crunching on a pepper stick.
'We are too young to be sitting on a train on our way to a summer holiday in Chester, debating whether to eat our sandwiches in plastic bag even though it is technically not lunch time.'
I let this statement sink in for a second.
'We could attempt to do it in the train toilet?' I halfheartedly ventured.
Steve's eyed my large bump and then wearily,
'For the sake of logistics and common decency, I think it is best that we read our books.'
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