NEW Year's resolution to arrive at work a) on time, b) immaculately and stylishly dressed, and c) brimming with ideas for forthcoming issues of magazine foiled by a) Connex announcing presence of body on line at East Croydon, meaning train will be delayed until further notice, b) neighbours asking me to turn off washing machine as noise of it thundering across floor during spin cycles wakes entire household, and, c) late night drinking and clubbing session on Saturday night left brain too tender for creating brilliant ideas.

Note mounting anger of fellow travellers over static pose of train turns to studied concern at mention of word 'body'.

Etiquette demands that while perfectly acceptable to shout abuse at the guard/your neighbour/no one in particular about points failure/leaves on line/track-side fires etc, a body on the line requires a certain amount of respect for feelings of said body.

No one wants to reveal themselves to be a product of heartless, uncaring, 20th century world, more concerned with getting to work than with state of mind of total stranger.

So, while suspecting fellow passengers all wish casualty had chosen more convenient time to top his/herself, no one is going to challenge guard over yet another Monday morning delay.

However, have to admit to cynicism that body is a ploy used by Connex, forcing passengers to refrain from voicing dissatisfaction, thereby keeping complaint records at acceptable level.

After all they give no detail of why body is on the line or whose body it is or what they are doing there.

Simply leave it to us passengers to assume it is someone who couldn't face another day of struggling to work on a series of delayed trains, and while crossing the bridge to platform one decided to leap from it.

But, body could be the body of a sheep or rabbit or even the perfectly live and healthy body of an engineer trying to sort out the points failure.

Iwonder, as guard sweeps through carriage with look of smug satisfaction on face, whether I dare wipe it off by asking if he knows whose body it is and whether it is in a state of fatal repose or simply having a tea break before getting on with sorting out points.

Of course not wishing to totally alienate self from fellow travellers, I simply cold shoulder smiling guard and continue to glare furiously out of the window, knowing that I shall arrive at work, dishevelled, uninspired and late.

Glare quickly turns to look of concern as tall, athletic blond from Hassocks moves up the train and hovers not far from where I'm sitting.

Obviously thinks he'll get to work quicker if nearer front of train. Meanwhile heart is pounding while I wonder a) why I didn't get the immaculate, stylish look together and, b) if "Do you think it's the body of a person or just a sheep or maybe a leaf?" is a suitable chat up line.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.