Trust us to go to Brighton on the hottest day of the year so far. There were delays and we, that is my partner and I, with various other people were stood in the aisle of a train for an hour and a half.

A monster emerged on the platform: looked around, patted his breast and cheek then looked at his hand where his green paint had imprinted –

A performer.

He better not get on this carriage you muttered in my ear and I felt my knees tremble, parched and with my bag rubbing the sunburn on my left shoulder.

I don’t like monsters.

The monster did get onto our carriage. His tentacles tickled the cheeks of adults, his spines bent against the suitcases squeezed in-between legs. He scared children too, they screamed – wept.