In the old days there were people called railway porters who would meet you at the kerb and with a deferential touch of the cap load your luggage onto a cart and follow you to your compartment while you tucked away your gloves and neatly folded your copy of The Times in anticipation of doing battle with the crossword before making your way to the dining car for a restorative.
I am reliably informed that there was a similar arrangement at the aerodromes where those new flying machines congregate.
Now you are forced to haul your own bags like a coolie along miles of corridor while unsympathetic staff look on with a barely concealed expression of contempt as you try to find your way through the labyrinth to your flying cattle car or sterile airline style seat on a northbound train that will probably be forty minutes late if you're lucky. Hence the need for the Live Luggage PA with its built-in motor to take some of the load off of your harried shoulders.
This is called progress.
1 comment:
Great post. V witty
SBW
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