Must make New Year's resolution not to get the last train home, as am in danger of gaining undeserved reputation.

Last week, was given a look by blond athletic man from Hassocks which implied I was to blame for state of shoes, rather than the lad who'd been drinking and ended up chundering in Burger King bag, which broke as he tried to throw it out of the window.

Yesterday, another trip home on the 1am train, where found seat next to respectable looking elderly man, wearing suit, reading paper and looking as if he'd been to the theatre or some suitably sober venue and opposite worn-out looking businessman with mountain of paperwork.

Not much chance of either of them causing any trouble on the way home, I thought. But unfortunately paper sifter got off at Gatwick and was replaced by two men in their twenties and high spirits. They had, I gathered, just returned from golfing trip to Marbella and, since their flight home was in the evening, had spent much of the day on the nineteenth hole and much of the flight on XXXX.

Was beginning to wonder whether my shoes were in danger again, when one of the golfers looked at the luggage rack, did a double take and sobered up rapidly. "I don't believe it," he said to companion. "I've left my clubs behind."

"You must have them," said friend.

"I haven't. They're not here. Look . . ."

"Oh no! You did have them, though. I remember getting them off the carousel."

"What am I going to do?" He asked, as the train pulled out of Haywards Heath. Which is usually when I relax, thinking I'm on the home straight to Brighton.

Except that golfing boy's companion had the bright idea the best way to deal with what was a lost property problem was to pull the emergency cord.

The train stopped, then reversed back to Haywards Heath and then the guard appeared in the carriage. "Who pulled the emergency cord?" he asked.

No one said anything. "I asked a question?" said the guard in a voice which implied everyone in the carriage was to blame, because either they pulled it or they were shielding the real culprits.

"We're not going anywhere, until I find out who pulled it."

Still nobody did anything. So he decided to ask the respectable looking, suited, elderly man, who said he hadn't seen who pulled it but it must have been one of us - indicating self, as well as two drunk golfers.

"Did you pull it miss?" guard asked.

No, I didn't. Do I look like the sort of person who would pull the emergency cord?" I said in my most insulted voice. "It was . . ." and I was about to say: "Them" but at that moment blond athletic man from Hassocks appeared in the carriage. He stopped when he reached the guard mid inquisition and gave me a funny look.

"Do you know this young lady?" said the guard, as I heaved a sigh of relief thinking Hassocks would vouch for my good character, which in turn would lead guard to real culprits.

But Hassocks had got the impression, while I was okay to the pass the time of day with on the 19.08 or earlier, once the evening wore on I turned into a person who threw up on her own shoes and pulled the emergency cord.

"No," he said to the guard while giving me a withering look. "Not really."