Why This Is Hell

Today I decided to hang spring cleaning and, after waiting for postie and the parcel that didn't come (want my Universal Horrors now) I decided to head out to Rochester and the alleged largest secondhand bookshop in Britain (which Barter Books would dispute). The start wasn't good - apparent the station are experimenting with limiting the opening hours of the ticket office, and someone has ripped out the ticket machine (which doesn't sell you the cheapest available ticket anyway) and there are all these posters threatening to rip out your gonads if you board a train without a ticket.

Then the train was late - but just by three minutes.

( Now what I want is, Facts. . . Facts alone are wanted in life. )