The train is so expensive. The fare – nearly a tenner – is just the start. The killer is that at both ends I have to walk past a series of distractions: evil takeaways, chocolate machines, sandwich shops, coffee and cake concessions, purveyors of paperbacks, market stalls. It was tipping it down last night and I blew a tenner on a taxi home as a treat. It all adds up. And seriously diminishes my chances of eating sensible food at home.

I sympathise! They’ve just opened a little hut next to my train station which sells papers and tea and things.
I live 15 yards from said hut. And yet already I find myself spending £1 on a cup of tea from the hut, £0.70 on a Guardian, and 30.80 on a pastry every morning. While my own tea bags and box of Fruit ‘n’ Fibre, 15 yards away, are neglected. Tis madness.
Good grief! That’s one fancy pastry!
I get caught out by this too, although I’ve made a new tax year’s resolution to stop buying chocolate at the station. I did get chips when I passed the chip shop on the way home they other night, and treated myself to the bus part way as it was spitting with rain last night.
A £30.80 pastry! I’ve tried to work out what slip of typing caused that one, to no avail. That’s one craaaaaazy typo. I’m just a crazy kinda guy.