It’s late July, the sky is blue, the thermometer is nudging 30°C and the sun is streaming in through the train windows. With the carriage feeling like a mobile sauna, you’re dripping and your neighbours are turning beetroot; there’s no choice but to open a window. You barely manage more than three gulps of mountain air before a Swiss woman comes over and suggests in no uncertain terms that you shut it. She even pulls her scarf tighter round her neck for added effect, though not tight enough for your liking. It seems the draught is annoying her, even though she is sitting four rows in front;
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