Laughter

Now, this morning I happened to catch the train into Paddington to get to work. A sunny day, train was full of people from the satellites to the West of London travelling in for a day shopping or zooing or parking or cottaging. When we got to Paddington, however, with a five minute delay (bring back Jimmy Savile and BR), two passengers in my carriage leapt from their seats and started to run down the platform. But tragically, not in the absolutely desperate "I'm going to miss my plane/wedding/operation/interview/date (delete as appropriate) style", but rather the classic British middle-class/middle-aged five step jog, in which they raise their pace for the aforementioned number of strides, but then drop back to walking pace as they start to sweat/realise they look ridiculous/find their bag too heavy/drop a pen/lose their wife, and then try to run again. In certain ways it reminds me of the walking in the Olympics, when the competitors are penalised for raising their feet too much. Are GB champions in this sport? If not, we should be.