Off to the bogs!

Here I am, taking my general inclinations in my hand and surrounded by a bunch of besuited yokels. I use derogatory language because they've started talking about the Gays and are not being too pleasant (while also being enourmously naive and lacking any external perception). They appear to all work in the same office patently and have probably employed sons, nephews, cousins and some of those more 'complicated' relationships some families have when isolated from other people by living in a marsh. There might even be some women there but only if they've had a shave and a short haircut. The language sounds like the Vicar of Dibley with even the word why transformed into Whhhhuuuuuiiiiiiyy? I have a feeling I may not have time for a conversation here. Once Good Morning is exchanged it'd probably be afternoon. We're due to arrive at Norwich (it's the quiz of the week!) so I'll pick up once we've got on our next train.