I have a secret. Well not anymore as I am about to blast it all over the Internet. I am a trainspotter. There, I said it. Now, I don't have a Parker jacket and I don't sit at the end of platforms collecting numbers anymore (Ah the camaraderie! you knew who your friends were on a wet Saturday afternoon on Eastleigh station), but I do still have an enduring love of trains. I had no idea, however, how much the world had moved on since I was a practising trainspotter. I had not realised that the whole movement had gone underground so to speak.

In fact just today I came across just such an example whilst paying off my electric bill. Afterwards I perused the shelves for an interesting magazine. Now I am a touch over six foot tall but i don't think the the magazine i selected was in anyway at a level you might call "top shelf". It was just above waist height but when i went to purchase said publication i offered my cash money the lady behind the counter said

"Would you like a bag for this?"

As if this magazine about light rail was in some way obscene and she was offering to cover it up lest it should offend public sensibility.

It'll be Top Gear next!