The train was so late arriving at the Italian border that they refused to let it continue. Who the hell are they to criticise? We all had to pile off the train and wait for a connecting train to Venice. What arrived was a standard commuter train, which was full before we all got on it. This confused me as, according to my diary, it was a Saturday. As-per-usual, all the Italians were immaculate, and they were very unimpressed by all us scruffy (and by this point probably very smelly) Inter-railers. It was all right for them, as they hadn't just spent the night in the corridor of a grotty Yugoslavian train. Mind you, knowing the Italians, they would still look pristine. Some pratt in an army uniform was obviously taking the mickey, much to the
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