Quiet Coach

They should re-name the 'quiet coach' the 'confrontation coach'. We have yet to have ridden the railways in the sure knowledge of quietitude. Instead, we find ourselves in arguments, admittedly sometimes silent arguments with each other, but sometimes boiling over into stark confrontation with the young family playing snap, or the lady re-scheduling her precious fucking film shoot on her mobile phone. Why on earth, if you're a mum with three young shouting kids eager to go on holiday, did you book the quiet coach in the first place? I'm sure next time we will be hailed as heroes by the silent majority of 'quiet coach' dwellers as the quite coach militia. We should wear tee shirts. Or maybe, when it comes to the next booking, I'll just say 'Well do you fancy a little confrontation next Sunday darling?' Or would you prefer some peace and quiet in the noisy section?

We were only going to Peterborough, but I can assure you a weekend with mum and dad is exhausting work. Hence we snapped at the snap. Endless questions such as 'Do you have a whisk then?' are the sort of thing you get from elderly mums and dads, and then there's the endless 'Would you like some coffee?' when after about a million exclamations, they must know you don't touch the stuff. Or, when you retreat to the Garden Centre, 'Did you have a nice coffee?' 'No we went to the pub'. Still, it is their world, and we join in as best we can.