h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Well, for those few of you that haven't heard the story I'll tell it again.

Why do we do this? I mena, why do I feel I have to tell it?

In my case it's probably because I'm amazed that at nearly 50 anyone should even contemplate me as a female, but also because the story is quite amusing in hindsight.

Also it's a woman's networking thing. I bet the bloke in the story doesn't go round telling everyone he meets about it. He's probably (I hope) ashamed about it. He probably molests women in this pathetic fashion every day. He probably doesn't have anyone to talk to.

Which still doesn't justify it, which is what Zarquon's Singing Fish seemed to think. I should have taken her up on that. Again, a typical woman's thing - this guy makes unwanted advances and gets unpleasantly familiar and, albeit harmlessly, molests me on a train, and another woman says "perhaps he was mentally ill". Women - aaah! We always look for the good in everyone. ZSF - that could even have been my reaction, don't get me wrong, especially out of the context of the conversation prior to my telling my tale.

But, anyway, women have to get this sort of thing off their chest straight away. Well, I did. I bored everyone with it.

So now, dear Reader, it's your turn.

I flew to London for the summer meet. Honestly. I came all the way from Europe. On landing at Stansted, I took the train for Liverpool Street; it was about 11:30 am. Broad daylight. Families and tourists in the carriage. I sat on one of the empty seats without a table, next to the window.

Before the train moved out, this bloke (undefinable age - most likely over 50) sat down beside me. (OK in future I'll sit in the aisle seat and dump my bag on the window seat)

Not feeling too happy about this situation, I sort of looked out of the corner of my eye and assessed him. He was quite small - sort of Italian looking - and was wearing a clean, ironed, cotton short-sleeved shirt and had clean - not sweaty! - hands. He held a small backpack and an ordinary light jacket on his lap and I decided that I was safe.

While I continued reading my book, he sort of moved over my way. And those seats are very narrow, so it didn't take much. I assumed he was asleep and didn't think much about it, except his arm seemed abnormally far over my side and was, by now, pressing against my breast. I moved my arm in the way and twisted round a bit more towares the window.

He started moving his leg to touch mine. I stretched my legs out so he couldn't do that any more. By now I was getting more suspicious, and tensing up. Eventually I was cowering in the corner over my book, and even leant forward. He promptly put his arm behind me.

Why didn't I say something? Dammit there was a German family opposite, I could have spoken to them in German and perhaps shaken him out of his state of mind.

Well I did say "Do you MIND" and got him to take his arm back without actually touching him.

This went on for the best part of an hour. I didn't dare climb out of the seat - I would have had to climb over him. He couldn't have done anything, in public like that, but the thought revolted me.

After my first protest, he did put a small distance between us, but laid his hand on the seat and that started creeping over. God knows what his other hand was doing under his bag on his lap.

His hand crept over further and further and in the end I picked it up between first finger and thumb like a dead mouse and placed it firmly on his lap, saying "Do you mind" again.

When we got to Liverpool Street, I let him get well out and way ahead before leaving the train myself. He looked back, but didn't see me.

......

The other journeys on my trip to Hyde Park were quite nice. My sister drove me from Reading to our parents and then back to Stansted airport so we got plenty of time to natter and on the flight home I chatted the whole way with a trainee lawyer who was doing a year in Frankfurt. He had heard of H2G2 and had even registered when it first opened.

So Hi - if you're here again and have come back to look at my Entry on German Bread!

If it EVER happens again, IMMEDIETLY inform him you feel discomfort.

If you really want to, MOVE.

If he will not move to let you past, PUSH HIM!!

If all else fails, CLIMB OVER THE SEAT!
I got assaulted earlier last year on a train, the only way I escaped with my railway equipment and identity passes was climbing over the seat.

If anything has been DONE, call the British Transport Police.
If you feel at all in danger, pull the emergency cord.

I am disgusted that something like that could happen on the railway I live next too!

Thanks for your concern. It's not likely to happen again, as I'm well into my midfifties and not really a target for this sort of thing.

Had it not been in full daylight in a reasonably full carriage, I would have been much more worried.

It certainly made me aware of what could happen and I hope I have the guts to intervene if I'm ever anywhere near and this happens to someone else.

TC as I recall you're 53 - hell thats the new 40 - look at all the sexy ladies in their fifties nowadays.

We don't mind men looking, or finding us sexy/attractive. We just mind being made to feel uncomfortable!

TC, this is exactly the situation God invented stiletto shoes for. Wear them or at least, keep one in your

It was TC's 'not likely to happen again' I was referring to, there's enough people waiting to knock us down we don't need to start for ourselves.

I would happily of laid into the bloke - I have a wife and 5 daughters - what a creep.