I like a bit of personal space in the morning, and I get a bit chizzy when annoying trainpeople encroach on that human right.
This bloke who sat next to me this morning wasn't a huge guy, but he was heavy. Maybe he had an unusually high amount of mercury in his blood or something. Perhaps he was some sort of superhero. It's uncertain. But whatever the reason, this not unusually large, but peculiarly heavy man turned my valued train seat into a seesaw for an hour. A seesaw with a rhino down one end, and a small monkey up the other.
Try as I might to retain my high place, I kept sliding down towards him, so our thighs were hard pressed, like two slabs of devon. Yes, devon. It was very frustrating, and the extra weight of 742 pages (seriously) of David Copperfield in my hands only worsened the issue, serving as some sort of anchor, keeping me weighted down to the superhero. Mercury Man.
I also tried hooking one buttock over the edge of my side of the seat, to gain some sort of grip. But though good in theory, I found the buttock to be pretty useless in practice. So after a long journey, the devon slabs were separated finally, and I alighted. But then I found that the strain of the journey had put my whole body off kilter, and walking along the platform, I felt like I was walking across the steep slope of a mountain.
If I see my superhero friend again tomorrow I'm going to need a chiro for sure.