Travelling back from Sheffield on a Monday evening on a late Sheffield-to-Worksop train, my mood was serene as I had just been to a wonderful concert by the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge, at St Marie’s Cathedral.
My train journey, though, was anything but serene, as I had no choice but to listen to drunken youths berating the England football team after their shock defeat, mostly in Anglo Saxon, and worse.
I’m no prude, but one youth’s behaviour was appalling.
With a running commentary, consisting mostly of the ‘F’ word making defamatory comments about named players, hetore up and threw on the floor betting slips and threw half empty McDonald’s chip containers around. Also he, or his companion, was smoking.
They were ignored by the conductor.
Did I, a lone, middle-aged female say or do anything? Should I have said anything? Would it have made any difference?
I’m afraid I just watched. I was alighting soon.
It’s a pity I went from listening to some of the best voices in the world to some of the worst.