The Age of Steam (2005, apparently!)

Sat outside Victoria this morning and looked out window to see an honest-to-God steam train reversing into the station. It looked fabulous, conjuring up images of romance, bodies and Jenny Agautha waving her draws. None of my fellow passengers looked up, engrossed in The Sun (spotty bloke in crap suit reading about television) and their mobile phone call (woman in what can charitably be described as an anorak). A shame, it looked like the world's biggest Hornby loco was hoing right past the window.

The experience was enhanced when the air-con unit on my train sucked in the steam, soot, cinders and so on and gave the carriage a not unpleasant nostalgic smell. If one could bottle it, you could sell it to enthusiasts and make a fortune, along, of course, with eau-de-swafega and essence of engine oil.