I always find this stretch quite bleak. The seats oppose one another, more closely resembling high-backed benches, but people sit facing one another only when absolutely necessary. There are so many stops, and the train just crawls… it seems interminable at times. All the stations gradually begin to sound the same; Harold Wood, Brentwood, Ilford, Romford. The fact it’s a miserable January (this old bloke’s clothing is far more practical than mine – I don’t even have a hat) isn’t helping, I guess.