Firm friends

The moment the announcer stated that the 9.05 to Newquay was leaving from platform four, virtually the entire crowd on the concourse at Paddington station arose like a Zulu impi and ran towards it. Platoons of young totty, hampered by pink and lilac suitcases as heavy as themselves, screamed with excitement and frustration as they were left standing by the swarms of young lads who raced along the platform to secure seats.

I was standing, fortunately, beside the entrance to platform four, and was in the vanguard of the pell-mell race for the second-class carriages at the front of the train. Spotting a vacant seat in the carriage on the far side of the buffet car, I jumped aboard and dived into it. Within two minutes seats, aisle and vestibules at both ends of the carriage were rammed with young Newquay-bound revellers, all of them breaking out the lager and the alcopops and shouting.