The Last Train To Westenhangar

At work have seemingly been upgraded to a select group of six agents, called Skills Agents.... hmm... I am scared!

Spent day training people yet again. Everyone has started asking me questions... as if I know stuff.. eek!

Got home for princely sum of 1 quid. How? By catching the last train to Westenhangar, the least used station in Kent. It sits in the middle of a divided and dying village, about 15 mins walk from my own. My carriage companions were three people from Dover who couldn't spell Ramsgate or Maidstone, but could spell fucking... well done! And a bloke who kept slapping himself, and mummering... joy! Train only cost a quid, as that's how much I put on my travel permit... no one came to make me buy a ticket...

Nearly got run over by two tractors on way home...

Am home alone tonight, Mum's at her head office and the others are at the family villa in Spain.

Sometimes I think this blog is more trouble than it's worth...