My train journey home on Friday was enlivened by the company of three fifty-something Liverpudlian women who were heading to Birmingham for the weekend. Nail varnish was applied, eyebrows tweaked, hair colour and texture discussed and family misdemeanors dealt with on the phone. They had a discussion with the woman opposite about the standard of nightlife in Liverpool, Wolverhampton and Birmingham – conclusion: Liverpool is for young people, there is nothing happening in Wooly these days and Birmingham is the best option. Drinks and crisps were consumed (and I was very generously offered some) and then one turned the music on her Blackberry up and we enjoyed some Michael Jackson as we crossed the Runcorn-Widnes Bridge. The train manager emerged after Runcorn to check tickets and had not got very far down the carriage before he returned to our table to ask that the music be turned down as someone had complained. The volume was reduced by a small amount with the knowledge that it would take the train manager some time to do the whole train and return to us at the back. All too soon I got to Crewe and wished my companions a good weekend.