Spent much of past week queuing in local garages in order to stock up on supplies.

As I don't have a car, I didn't actually need any petrol but didn't want to miss out on the general mood of crisis or the chance to indulge in great British pastime - queuing.

So now have a house pretty well stocked with inedible flapjacks, charcoal, and Pepsi, which I have been panic drinking and am now rather sick of.

Trains, of course, have been running fine because, according to guard "they run on third-rate electricity". Initially, we thought that much-maligned, run down, public transport system didn't even merit getting top-grade electricity but, turned out he'd said "third rail" - i.e. the electricity runs on the third rail (which it omits on the scary posters about 750v running alongside the track at all times, enough to kill you 15 times over).

Anyway, the third-rate public transport system has been very popular this week, with company car drivers complaining about the inconvenience, while sitting on seats which, as an annual season ticket holder, I believe morally should be mine. Still, at least I have plenty of Pepsi and charcoal to keep me going....

On day two of general overcrowding, an habitual company car driver, who also happened to be male, in mid-30s, Matt le Blanc (before he put on weight) looking, asked if seat opposite was taken. Despite reservations that the few seats available should really go to regular commuters, and because of his Matt le Blanc, before he put on weight, good looks, I admitted that the seat was free and he sat.

"Do you know if this train stops at East Croydon?" he asked, a true commuting virgin, since all the trains stop at East Croydon.

"Yes," I replied. "There's no way of avoiding it even if you wanted to, which since when you get there the train gets even more crowded, you very well might."

"And can I get a train to Mitcham Junction from there?" he inquired, obviously thinking I am some sort of walking train timetable, which usually I am but not on this occasion.

"I'm not absolutely sure," I told him. "You might have to change at Clapham Junction. I couldn't say for certain."

"Only I tried calling train inquiries and couldn't get through, because of the fuel crisis - so I'm not really sure quite how to get to work. Anyway, I think I'll go and get a coffee. Would you like one?"

I nodded and pointed him in buffet direction. At which point, train stopped at Hassocks and blond athletic man got on. "Do I get to join you?" he asked.

Normally I would have jumped at the chance. But, couldn't really let him have his seat. So I told him it was already taken.

"By a car driver?" he inquired. To which I had to reply that I thought so.

Hassocks gave me a look which said he clearly thought me treacherous to have given preference to motorist over him and went and sat on the arm-rest of pretty woman who got on at Preston Park and began flirting with her.

Le Blanc returned from the buffet and sat down. "They seem to have run out of coffee. Something to do with no deliveries, due to fuel crisis. So have got a Pepsi instead. Hope that's OK?"