There are three types of train passenger who irritate me intensely. Least offensive - but still irritating - are Noise Spillers. These are the people who leak crackly, fuzzy, music from their iPod earpieces. The next category are Sprawly Men. These are men who sit with their legs spread as wide as they possibly can, so that they infringe into the seats on either side of them. This always seems so arrogant to me - why can they not just sit like a normal person, in one seat? Also, the view from opposite them is generally not that pleasant either. And the last - and, to me, most infuriating category - consists of the people who believe that their briefcase is a person and deserves a seat of its own. Inevitably if you ask them to move the briefcase off the seat next to them so you can sit down, they look peevish do it in an extremely grudging, martyred sort of way.

The man sitting opposite us on the 11.03 train out of London Victoria on Thursday night fitted into all three categories.

We were in London because Bobby had won a work raffle - tickets to The Music of Morse, at the Royal Albert Hall. Not something we would have chosen ourselves, but, since it was free, we went along.

The Royal Albert Hall is quite something. Very Victorian; big, and imposing, and lots of red velvet. We were seated in the two front seats of a four person box - very cool, since the (red velvet) balustrade at the front is low you feel like you are right in the middle of things. It's all very civilised - if you're in a box you're allowed to take your drink in there with you, so you can sip your wine as you listen. The music itself was lovely (except for one Mozart duet whose refrain reminded both Bobby and me of Sarie Marais) and I've always had a slight thing for Inspector Morse anyway. Back in the days when my life was all nappies and breastmilk and toys on the floor, I had moments when I could quite see myself somewhere romantic and adult with Morse. Venice, maybe? The two of us would be listening to opera and his romantic, sensitive side would take over from his curmudgeonly side. Ah, good times!

We had some sushi afterwards (yum) and then ran like crazy for the train, which turned out to be packed. I was amazed by how many of the people seemed to be city business people who were going home from work. At 11 at night! This must be how people afford the big houses and swish cars one sees round here. Doesn't seem worth it to me, I have to say.