I’m on a packed train from Leeds to London – busier than usual because it contains the cancelled 8.40ers like me, now with irrelevant seat reservations, as well as the 9.05ers, determinedly claiming their rightful seats.

And I’m wondering whether we’ve all become less fractious as travellers now – grown immune to the frequent problems and delays and sweetly grateful when we can report “a really good journey” – or are we all just ensconced in our own virtual worlds?

I can see laptops on nearly every knee and table, several iPhones, Blackberries and other mobiles. But no conversation. Despite the gift of mutual inconvenience, shared train company gripes, competition for worst travel nightmare story – the only exchanged words are “I think that’s my seat” “Sorry” and “Thank you”. Were we all sharing our frustrations on Facebook? Tweeting our angst?

The very businesslike lady sat next to me, who has been tip-tapping away on her laptop, punctuated with a very annoying sniff, leans across to an earphone-wearing passenger and asks her to turn down her MP3 player as it’s “very annoying”(she must have super-hearing, there is absolutely no discernible sound). Earphones politely complies.

Tap, tap, tap, tip, tap – sniff – tap, tap, tip tap, – sniff, sniff. And on we go.

What has happened to the art of conversation? One of my best remembered train journeys was a nightmarishly long trip to London to see a very ill friend, which was eventually turned back, because the delays were so bad. The buffet bar was emptied. Bottled water was rationed amongst hot, thirsty and hungry passengers. Each with their own disappointment: that vital meeting, job interview, get-together with friends, even a romantic tryst. And we shared them all. It was fascinating. Even fun.

I even had my first taste of North East hospitality when a very kind man shared his precious Stottie cake and pease pudding with everyone in our carriage. A lovely old lady produced a rather scary knife from her handbag to do the cutting and spreading.

Sniffing woman has just been rewarded with a new set of co-travellers! With valid seat reservations, they’re sheepishly sending glum 8.40ers to stand in the aisles. And they’re Very Loud. Crisp and sweetie chomping, computer-game playing teenagers and indulgent parents – laughing, joking, swearing a bit, but actually talking. Incessantly.

Sniff, sniff, sniff – tap, tap, tip, tap – sniff, sniff…
Earphones and I exchange a secret smile.