Fellow passengers: Never noticed them until we broke down and started sweltering on a Sunday afternoon in June. We weren't able to exit for a while because the automatic doors had gone kaput sans electricity. Nothing like regular whiffs of l'eau d'armpit to flare the nostrils.
How full: Most seats taken but it's astonishing how many people fill a train once we'd spilled on to the platform to await a replacement.
Entertainment: Monitoring the whinge-o-meter as we alighted at Potters Bar. Most people, with a particular nod to the families, handled the disruption stoically. I suspect this is where hand-held devices with decent battery life come into their own.
The service: The conductor was effusive in his apology, flagellating himself and the London North East Railway over the PA at every stop along the way. He gave us instructions on how to get a refund, which I followed dutifully. The cheque must still be in the mail… or cyberspace.
Food and drink: All wolfed by the time the Potters Bar ordeal was over. After that, it was time to go to my backpack and wheel out the Sunday Times.
Toilets: I have a vague memory of a clean stainless steel bowl, but I used the facilities pre-crisis.
Luggage: Plenty of room for my bag in the racks, and satchel on the adjacent seat.
The terminal experience: It certainly felt terminal at Potters Bar with no ETA on a substitute train and a dying laptop. I didn't linger at Newcastle in the late afternoon.
Would I ride again? Yes. In fairness, that's the first time an overground train has let me down in Britain. Taking the train remains the perfect way to relax with countryside views while getting a jump on deadlines.
