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On the coach on the way home, which is sadness enough.
But add to that the Scottish pre-schooler several seats in front, with the super-piercing voice, and the Eastern European behind me who can't bear the sound of silence (constant phone calls and then singing!) and it's shaping up to be a long journey.
Oh and I haven' t even got started on the fact that the only toilet on the coach is blocked and we don't reach London for another five hours...
I argued my way off the coach at Preston to use the public toilets. I expect I shall do the same in Leeds. Comes to something when a bus station toilet feels like luxury.
I shall spend the rest of my journey composing a strongly worded complaint.
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