Thanks for a lovely breakfast

I'm feeling slightly guilty today. As some of you may know, I spend a day a week working for the government. Not overthrowing foreign dictators, defusing nuclear bombs or anything so much fun, but it provides emolument. This morning you the taxpayer paid for me to travel, like all the Civil Servants I work with, to work on the train. From Birmimgham to London, First Class.

In my last job we used to pay £25 for a Standard Return, today's ticket - which will let me go to BMovie and back up tomorrow, cost £160. Every week.

In other news, I had an amusing shopping experience with a "scan and pack your own goods" machine in a Co-op in Oxford. Very strange experience - but I'm sure with practice it might even do what it is supposed to do and save time...

Inspired by lupercal I was thinking about tattoos on the train. At least I started thinking about tattoos and ended up thinking about cartouches, and collections of images which define me and my life. Which of course I could have tattooed. This then got me on to thinking of the contrasts between the ancient cartouches and modern barcodes. Maybe both. I could metatag myself...

Thief! Thief!

Whoosh - there goes my faith in human nature again.

I just stopped by the canteen to get some lunch - but I only had a crisp £10 note, and the man had no change. So I, and the man behind me in the queue, got to sit down and have our lunch after the poor stressed operator writes down on a napkin the amounts we owe.

As I finish my delicious, nutritious Pizza I see the other man get up, put his tray away and leave the canteen. So, basically he's stolen his lunch.

I, being a well brought up, if a little cheeky, young man, go back to the till and pay my tab now a bag of coins has arrived to allow me to get change back.

Sometimes I can easily hate my fellow man...