In due deference to my sustainable yoghurt weaving chum Steve Connor, with whom I will be breaking vegan bread later, I left the tractor in the yard this morning and took the train.
Too crowded, too damp and a little bit late. Standing room only from Marple. And my pal Wolfie, who did get a seat at New Mills, had already moved to avoid a public sector harpie yakking on about a spatial awareness workshop.
I was far too afraid that I would inflict the tinny invasion of my iPod's carefully composed commuter playlist on the rest of the crowded carriage, so that pleasure was also denied. Spatial awareness, see.
I now have a sore back, a distaste of grumpy students and a burning sense of frustration that the people of the Peak District, the Hope Valley and Marple are poorly served by this service.