Had intended to support striking Connex drivers in a solid, uniony, fellow hard done by workers sort of way.

But have ended losing all sympathy for lazy, whinging, good for nothings.

To be fair, initial enthusiasm for industrial action was borne not so much out of a belief in the right for oppressed workers to take on management scum by withdrawal of labour, but belief that I could probably manage to get a day off work due to lack of trains occasioned by such withdrawal of labour. Editor, however, had other ideas. . .

"I've just been speaking to Jackie and Helen," she told me, when I suggested that, rather than take a gamble on getting to work last Tuesday, it would be best if I "worked from home" - "and they both say they've looked into how the strike will affect their journey to work and are sure it won't be a problem getting here."

"Jackie and Helen," I pointed out "do not commute from Brighton but other areas in the Connex empire which are not so redneck and therefore will probably not be so badly affected." (Moreover, they are both hoping to fill the desk of the features editor, who recently announced her intention to leave magazine and travel, and are therefore looking for ways to ingratiate selves with Editor. Presumably think getting to work, whatever the inconvenience, is one way of doing this - a fact which I didn't point out to Editor).

So, ended up spending last Tuesday hanging about on the concourse waiting for a train with a driver to materialise, then joining a scrum of other commuters all eager to gain a place on such a train and fighting (and losing fight) for a seat. Then had to endure entire journey standing and sardined between small woman with extremely frizzy hair which rested just under own nose, causing irritation every time she moved her head, and unwashed male whose armpits caused irritation every time he moved.

All this I could have forgiven the drivers, but not the following. . .

Noticed the following day that blond athletic man from Hassocks had all of a sudden become particularly matey with blond (probably bottled), slim,

gym-honed woman, also from Hassocks. Had previously spotted Gym Honed waiting on platform before but never in conversation with, or for that matter in vicinity of, Athletic.

But, the whole of last week, they were chatting on the platform together as the train drew into Hassocks, looking about for a double seat together, as they boarded the train, and, having failed to find a double seat, leaning across the corridor to converse with each other - all the way to London.

Presumed they must have been formally introduced at some sort of Hassocksy party until I stumbled across Athletic browsing at the news stand one evening.

"Hi," he said. "Just trying to find out if there are going to be any more strikes. Did you manage to get to work last Tuesday?"

Was about to reply, but realised Hassocks had no intention of listening to answer but simply wanted to tell me his own thrilling account of the day in question.

"I decided there would be no seats by the time the train reached Hassocks, so I got a lift with Kathy. . ."

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.