Bloody, bloody, bloody!

Not only do I have to deal with the railways and their disastrous service, I also have to deal with a man who is sounding like an outraged dowager aunt with a foul mouth. Astonishingly, when something goes wrong, and better still, when a number of things go wrong, my interest in a dramatic recitation of what has gone wrong coupled with a complete list of my perceived faults and omissions that caused the delay, is limited (Presumably I psychically caused someone to throw themselves under a train at Clapham Junction). Frankly I'm rather teetering on the edge here! Hopefully I won't become homicidal, or worse still honest and cutting, which would ultimately cause my loving husband to be buried in a shallow grave on a railway embankment. Currently he's making a noise like a steam train every few minutes and even that is weathering my tolerant exterior after the aforementioned criticisms. Apparently the fact that I got the journey timetable followed by the late arrival of a train started the whole thing off. Indeed the train being late is less of an issue that my timetable being wrong. I tried to point out that the train was late and my timetable was correct but to no avail. Patently I am just ranting but I'm finding it very cathartic. And God I need cathartic now!