Come with me

There is a man on the train with a briefcase and a Macintosh. He opened it just now and took out a newspaper (The Times) and I saw that his briefcase was otherwise empty.

Which led me to wonder why he had a briefcase in the first place. Perhaps it was acting as an umbrella to his newspaper. Perhaps he was on his way to important business and wanted to look important. Perhaps he was picking up some freesias. It’s called a briefcase because lawyers use them to carry briefs by the way.

I like to think he can’t leave the house without it, or spend the day perpetually feeling like he’s forgotten something.

There is a woman who is large and beautiful. She has a big coat on and I imagine she is naked underneath because it has a fake fur rim and I think that’s what I would wear if I was going to surprise someone naked on a Tuesday morning. Her hair is straight in the main but it’s piled on top of her head in curly ringlets.

I just sneezed and the man next to me grimaced. I’m going to write that he smells because he’s reading over my shoulder.

There is no one else I’m interested in on this northern line train (isn’t that a drag) so I’ll have to wait until I change lines. Don’t worry not long, one stop.

I’m here I made it. It’s very crowded which makes it hard to write about the woman reading a book called ‘The Mystery of Marriage’. I want to vomit over that title and the faux hand drawn heart on the cover. Unless it is some Victorian classic that I missed during university. Remind me to look it up.

Ah the subtle bum nudge. One of my favourite tube activities. When two people are encroaching on each other’s space and lightly push each other with their bums. You do it to the rhythm of the train so neither person is QUITE sure if you’re telling them to move or just wobbling when the train stops and starts.

I’m at green park so I’ve still got 5 stops until Brixton.

I’m wearing my dads puffa jacket today. I love to do that when he’s away because it feels like he’s giving me a hug. I don’t want to see my reflection because I look so tired. My hair is wet too. People will think it’s from the rain but the jokes on them because I washed it this morning.

There is a woman who is very worried. I can tell because of her face. She looks worried. I don’t have time to analyse more because she just got off at Victoria but I promise she was worried about something. I hope she’s okay.

Have you ever noticed how terrible people’s shoes are on the underground. If you start to look you’ll find it hard to find a pair you like. Sometimes I look at the shoes and then guess what they look like. It’s a hoot.

There is a woman with a maroon beret and a pink coat. I don’t know why but she irritates me.

There is a Middle Aged woman opposite me with short hair that stands up straight with some bits of highlight in it. Why is this such a popular hair cut? Does that happen when you turn 50? Will it happen to me?

Man asleep. His neck will be sore in the morning.
Mass exodus at Vauxhall. See you tomorrow fellow travellers.

There’s a fitty near me with green headphones but he’s picking his nose (I actually swear). I imagine he’ll use goats cheese as an ingredient for his dinner tonight. Maybe with some rocket.

Brixton. All change please.