Railtrack, so keen to cancel everything that moves, has now cancelled Christmas. As exclusively revealed in the Evening Press yesterday, the company has placed a ban on staff parties for the whole festive season.

"Bing bong. We are sorry to announce the cancellation of the 2000 Christmas Do, due to call at Hotel Bar, Dining Room, Disco, Corridor Snog, Corridor Fight, Cloakroom, and due to arrive at Hangover Central some time tomorrow morning.

"This is due to a large deposit of guilt in the boardroom."

Needless to say, this is the wrong type of guilt.

Railtrack is, we are told, in a period of "corporate mourning". Is this in memoriam to the tragic loss of profits, down by 30 per cent to a mere £175 million in six months? No. Bafflingly, however, shareholders are still being paid more in dividends.

The "corporate mourning" actually refers to Railtrack's post-Hatfield self-flagellation.

Don't misunderstand me, a few weeks of penitence is welcome. It contrasts sharply with Railtrack's aggressive reaction after the Paddington disaster. Then bosses accused the media of hysteria for raising concerns about widespread safety flaws on the rail network.

But while it is perfectly okay for chief executive Gerald Corbett and his board to beat themselves up about their company's failings, don't draw the poor bloody infantry into it.

Railtrack staff have worked to impossible deadlines to meet incredible targets. They have been asked to simultaneously keep the tracks open (to avoid a regulator fine) and shut them (to carry out essential safety checks).

If anyone deserves a boozy blow-out at Christmas it is your ordinary Railtrack worker. Alas, they are banned from popping a single party popper or bopping to a single cheesy single, at least not in the name of Railtrack.

Here's an idea. The company directors could give up a percentage of their index-linked pensions or share options. That should raise enough to fly the workers to Ibiza for a party far away from the supposed opprobrium of the British public.

Alas, it will not happen. The board will be too busy fending off the ghosts of Christmases past and future.

I travelled by train at the weekend and found staff from every rail company to be doing their best, albeit with understandable weariness. Their troubles were multiplied by the fact they had been given no more information than the passengers.

To a man, my fellow travellers were resigned to delays. What did cause acute frustration was the failure to communicate how long we would be waiting.

When information was given out, it was wrong. My train on Sunday was an hour late leaving. Nevertheless, station staff assured me it would arrive at Doncaster at 2.15pm.

Almost as soon as the train departed, the conductor dropped a bombshell. We would not be in sunny Donny until gone three. Okay for me - for once I had secured a seat. Not so good for my girlfriend who would have to wait at Doncaster station with our little boy for an hour. There's very little for a toddler to do at Doncaster station, when you come to think about it.

Why was it not possible for the folk on board the train to inform the folk in the station of the true journey time? Has anyone heard of this new invention, the mobile phone?

The Millennium Dome has been voted the most depressing feature of the year. Nearly one in five of those questioned put Hezza's Palace at the top of their downers. In a world that includes war, famine, floods, Westlife, EastEnders and Saturday morning at Asda, the Millennium Doom still comes out bottom. That, surely, is its greatest achievement.