It's the Friday night, bank holiday weekend, and I'm on a packed train from London Paddington to Bath Spa. I've been on it a very long time. The train was running late straight off. The little crackling voice in the ceiling that gives excuses told us a lorry had hit a bridge. What bridge we are not told, but knowing the British Rail Network a lorry hitting a bridge anywhere in the country, nay the world, is enough to bring the whole network to a standstill.

We are then delayed further just outside Didcot, the excuse we are given this time, signal failure. Our snail pace slows to stationary. We were left waiting for the unfortunate person that was still working in the signal box to turn their computer off and on again, about thirty minutes.

While we sat there something special started to happen. It was the loud Australian standing in the isle that got things going. He went off about five minutes before the Brit's thawed out and started talking to strangers. There was a time when you got the feeling that people might be thinking, 'God we're already dealing with major train delays, please not the loud boorish antipodean', but then snorts and smiles started to be shared.

The Aussie had found our soft spot, he was slagging off the train company. Maybe he was a particularly good loud-Aussie, but I think it was the timing that got the smiles. The famous Blitz spirit was showing it's face. It's a form of resignation, a stoic acceptance of inconvenience and a determination not to let it stop you being chipper Despite the fact that you weren't chipper before, actually you haven't been exactly chipper for a while, this delayed train is not going to stop me being chipper.

Conversations between strangers started interrupting the relative silence of the stationary train. It was the kind of small talk you get in a tea break during a seminar, but without the name tags. The common theme was just how bad the trains are. A subject as familiar as the weather to most Brits.

When the little voice crackled through the tannoy - not to tell us we'd be back on our way, but to politely apologise for the problems with the tannoy - half the carriage was laughing out loud. “On behalf of first great Western Trains I'd like to apologise for the problems with my apologys.”

I did my bit, I joined the queue for in the buffet behind a girl buying 8 miniature bottles of vodka an in front of half a stag do. By the time I got to the front all the beer had gone so I blagged a free bottle of wine from first class and dished it out to the people at my table. Well the two guys at my table. I think the Asian girl that refused may have been a Muslim.

It's odd that the Blitz spirit is named after a time defined by struggle when it is really a surrender to inconvenience. There was a subtext to Churchill's 'We will never surrender' speech, 'we will suffer terribly and still just get on with it.'

So why am I typing instead of talking to my new found friends? Because of Swindon. A few people got on and off and Didcot, but Swindon was an influx of new people and a departure of some of our guys. These Swindon people, they don't know what it was like back in the signal failure, they weren't even there. I know the delay was tough and we didn't have much, but we made the most of it you know. People were just different back then. You could leave your laptop on the table without worrying about it and people shared what little wine they had. We were all in it together – I kind of miss it you know.