I finished the "Killer" Sudoku 7 minutes into the journey. It's not like I'm a genius or anything, it was already three-quarters done. It was a Sunday afternoon and I'd already spent an hour on it, sitting in front of the fire, drinking tea.
So here we are. Thee hours of tedious training lies before us.
I've drunk as much beer as I could useful, or wisely, consume this weekend, and I was sent packing with sandwiches, so the buffet trolley holds no interest. The papers are read. And it's too dark to play "I Spy".
The Exeter St Davids to London Waterloo stretch is one of the slowest lines in England. It's single track over large stretches, as if the idea that people would want to travel back to Exeter had never occurred to them. You end up sitting outside Yeovil, waiting for the outbound train to fly past before you can continue.
Just spent a lovely 48 hours in the tiny village of Lopen, Somerset. It must count as a village, because it has a church, though no shop or pub. You have to make your way up a busyish single carriageway road with steeply incline sides to make it to the local pub, the Poulett Arms. The cutting makes it impossible to leap to one side if a lorry comes careering round the corner, and if you try to find the footpath marked on the OS map, a local landowner comes and chases you away. Best, IMHO, to make either for the Lord Poulett Arms (close relation) in Hinton St. G. or the Royal Oak, in Over Stratton. It's a bit further, but the chances of being run down are less.
The Lord P. wins the award of pub of the weekend, for lovely gravity dispensed Branscombe and a magnificent interior. Honourable mention to the Muddlзd Man, for services to pub signs, and the Lord Nelson, for fish pie and venison burger.
I think the plan has to be to go back, with a bicycle, and cycle from pub to pub.
Only two hours left on this blasted train.