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Toby Trainery.

I had no empathy for a joint of meat under a heat lamp at a Toby Carvery until I boarded the 18:23 train from King's Cross to Hitchin. 

The temperature is unbearable. To make things worse, the train packed. I'm sitting by the window with the Sun's rays blaring in, eating a halloumi wrap, just to ramp the heat up. If I don't arrive at my destination in ten minutes, this will be my final blog post. 

To think I paid for this 'luxury'. Do First Great Western have no quality control? Have the people in charge of the company never used their own service? There's a sweat patch spreading on my back that'll bear resemblance to the Turin Shroud by the time I get up to leave this heat trap. This isn't public transport, it's a kiln.  

We're currently immobile at Welwyn North station. I've lost the will to live. I've also lost eight stone. I'm an emaciated Gollum lookalike. Oh well: no change there then.  

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