Ice, ice baby

In the Northlands.

Yesterday, on the train, we were faced with a social situation to which no decent human being should be subjected: someone was sat in our seat.

Ordinarily, I'm a free-for-all kind of guy myself. I love a scramble as much as the next man, as long as there is enough space for it. This train was packed, however, and there seemed to be some sort of rowdy, bald man convention down the other end of the carriage.

Because we are British, we tried to convey this complicated situation to the perpetrator without actually saying anything. I stood right next to him, looked at my ticket, looked at the seat number and then back at the ticket - "seems to be the right one, I just...". After some mutterings in the doorway, Fiona went back up to clarify the situation. So he moved, which was nice of him, but sat in the seat directly across the aisle.

I didn't dare look at him. Lest he whisper "seat stealer" in my ear. It was rightfully mine!