Train etiquette

The heading is a misnomer since there isn't much etiquette, not on the commuter trains I take to London. I love London. I hate the getting there. One reason I hate commuting is the selfishness of some of my fellow commuters.

They probably hate commuting too and that, no doubt, manifests itself in a desire to shut themselves off from others. But certain strategies adopted in doing so are simply not acceptable.

The worst of these is "seat hogging" where a passenger will place their bag and coat on the adjoining seat. This is the most common and one of the most selfish strategies employed to secure both seats for a single passenger. On a train with plenty of seats no-one is going to mind. But on a crowded train it amounts to rudeness.

Worst of all is using the same hogging tactic on a window seat so the seat hogger is placed between the seat and aisle. I have seen timid passengers standing in the aisles rather than ask for the empty seat.

I make a point of targeting the hoggers. If there is a seat with a bag and coat on it and an alternative seat without this baggage I will ask to sit at the "bagged" seat.

There are other common displays of bad behaviour: feet on seats, for example. Teenagers get a bad press but in this case they earn it. I have only seen young people with their feet up on seats.

Table hogging with computers or newspapers is not uncommon either. I know that a crowded train is little better than a chicken coup but does it have to bring out the worst in us?

Saturday junk

One of life's luxuries is a Saturday morning at home, reading the newspapers. One of life's little irritations is the junk that falls out of those newspapers when you open them.

So I just want to relay this message to the Isle of Man Department of Toursim and Leisure, The Spirit of Adventure Cruise Ship, City Index spread betting, Acer Computers, Dell Computers, Cotton Traders, Telegraph Home, Vobage call service, The National Trust (already a member) and Magnet kitchens. Your mail is in the bin. It went into the bin last week and it will go there next week and the week after that.

I don't buy your products (apart from the National Trust and since your mail was aimed at new members your material was irrelevant). I do buy fishing equipment, occasional bits of clothing, food, train tickets, petrol and books. But not much else.

How long can this waste continue? Short of inventing some particularly sadistic torture for the marketing heads of these companies I'm struggling to think of a solution.

Maybe I should fish the leaflets out of the bin and pass on these exciting commercial opportunities to someone who might value them. I have picked out just one of these companies. It happens to be Dell. Now who in this rogues'gallery of senior Dell executives deserves to get my personal mail shot of leaflets from the aforementioned companies? I suggest Richard L. "Dick" Hunter, Vice President Customer Experience. Two reasons: it's part of his remit and he isn't wearing a tie (standing out from the crowd Dick, always dangerous). Imagine if everyone who received junk mail started sending it back to the marketing heads of those companies churning it out. It's in your hands folks. Happy reading Dick.

Fanning the kipper

The best bit of Christmas is the games and the best game is fan the kipper. To play: Cut some sheets of newspaper into fat fish shapes. These are your kippers. Get two dinner plates and place them adjacent to each other but spaced apart at one end of a room. Clear furniture/people/dogs to the edges of the room. Get some magazines or newspapers; these are your fans.

Now draw up a list of all those there, put their names in to a hat and have someone draw them out to establish the order of play. On a sheet of a paper draw up a tree-style framework like those that are used for a knockout cup competition - finals, semis, quarters etc.

If you have 12 people, say, in your family group put four blank pieces of paper in the hat to signify byes in a draw of 16. In this way the competition will work itself fairly through the rounds. If you get the luck of a draw you have a bye through to the next round.

Choose your kipper and fan. Now you are ready to start. In each match two people "fan off" against each other. The object of the game is to fan your kipper down the room and on to your plate so that no part is touching the floor. The one that achieves this first is the winner.

Our family kipper trophy is a silver rabbit that was given to me many years ago as a corporate gift. As an employee of the Financial Times at that time, the policy was to hand over gifts for a charity raffle among staff. I handed in the rabbit, then won it back. This year I won it again.

I could never bat for England or turn a cricket ball but if fanning the kipper is ever granted international sporting recognition the manager of our national team could be comforted that in one small corner of this great country there is a pretty mean kipper wafter just waiting for the call.