Or something

please forgive [writes archy]
the profundity of these
meditations
whenever i have nothing
particular to say
i find myself always
always plunging into cosmic
philosophy
or something

Thank you, Mr Marquis. Unfortunately, dear readers, while I have nothing particular to say, nor do I have cosmic philosophy. So you get the 'or something'.

To wit, four questions from three train journeys. All, as it happens, between Kings Cross and Sutton, albeit for different reasons.

Firstly: what on earth does one transport in a sturdy case measuring approximately three inches wide, two and a half feet long, and two inches deep? And would one normally be carrying two of them? And am I to read anything into the bearer's lapel badge admonishment to 'Be cool. Stay calm. Admit nothing'?

Secondly (yes, that was just one question, actually, albeit in multipart glory): where does one buy coffee that comes in a cup encouraging the wide world to TAKE SIP DO MASSIVE SMILE? Is it really just coffee?

Thirdly: why has no one told the gent sitting in the row ahead of me reading Harry Potter that only girls have layer cuts? It took me about five minutes after he started talking on his mobile to realise that there was not, coincidentally, a separate conversation going on elsewhere in the carriage by a man with a louder voice than the woman I thought he was. (Um. That wasn't very clear. I thought he was a girl. That's all.)

And fourthly - now I'm not really sure I should be bringing this up in such a public place. Children might be in the audience. But since we're talking about, y'know, trains and stuff - [deep breath] - let's just raise the issue.

That chap three weeks ago. Entered an empty carriage, sat directly opposite me, across the little table. Baggy clothing. Never looked at me. But with all the space available, chose to sit right there, opposite me. Sat there with his personal stereo going, looking out the window. Left hand casually inserted under his sweatshirt, mostly blocked from sight by table. Left hand starting to, er, move rhythmically. Really rhythmically. So. Was he doing what I think he was doing? Or do I just have a filthy mind?

Almost as soon as I noticed (I was reading), he got up and got off at the next stop, anyway. I just wondered.