I bought this month's Modern Railways
magazine for one reason, and one reason only. No, it wasn't the 40 page supplement on Derby's railway heritage, shocking though that may seem. I bought it just to revel in my moment of fame. I had been faithfully promised that the list of winners to their compo would be printed in the September issue, and where was I?
I scoured that bloody magazine, looking for my name. In fact it took me a whole half hour of scouring before I realised what a shameless fame obsessed ego centric media whore I had become. I felt ashamed.
Actually, that last bit's a lie. I didn't feel ashamed. I should have done, but I didn't.
Vanity, where is thy sting?
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