Category
Observations
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07.25.04Three ShirtsLocation: Hammersmith Bus Station, Tuesday morning Wearer: Late teens, perhaps early twenties, male. Stubbly beard (style, not lack of hygiene, I think) and mussy hair. Medium height, pretty muscular The T-Shirt: Black with a red St George cross across the front, and grunge style lettering, proclaiming Eat Sleep Breath ENGLAND [sic] Location: Barnes High Street, Sunday afternoon Wearer: Skinny, tall male, possibly gay or at very least Metrosexual. Late twenties, carrying multiple bags of designer goods (or at least designer bags). Low-slung baggy jeans, flip-flops, studded belt, streaked hair at an unusual angle. Accompanied by two apparent clones (one male, one female) The T-Shirt: Lemon yellow, with large silver studs ...
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12.10.03We wish you a happy trip to casualtyI realise that my finger is probably not on the pulse of the British present-buying public (and frankly, I'm fairly glad), as I'm not a) under ten or b) totally loaded. Every year, present-buying fills me with the sort of loathing otherwise reserved for...well, it used to be reserved for trips to the dentist, until I found a dentist who not only was pleasant and human, but also provided gas-and-air with soothing music during even the most routine dental inspection. Now there's a man who understands the importance of customer loyalty: get them hooked and they're yours for life. So ...
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11.06.03Bus sketch(i) Dressed in a funereal black suit with scruffy brown shoes and thick white hair well beyond its last trim, he boards the bus by Hammersmith bridge. He carries a foldaway pine stool, a well-thumbed copy of yesterday's Evening Standard and a small frying pan in a crumpled polythene bag. Who is he and what is his story?
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11.01.03HonkThe man walks down the middle of the access slipway out of the bus station, burberry cap pulled snug on shaved head, cockily smoking a fag, ignoring the prominent signs which forbid pedestrian access. Does he know that there are rules? Or does he think that the rules are stupid, or that they do not - or should not - apply to him, specifically? Or does he think that he is better, more important than the rules? Is he making a point by sauntering down the slipway? Does holding up traffic - or the potential to do so - make him more ...
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10.21.03The Fellowship and the RingThe man sitting next to me on the suburban shuttle bus may have been a doctor, though he didn't look like one at first glance. He spread his papers out on top of his briefcase, perched on his knees. As they spread out and over into my cramped space, I noticed that he was scribbling notes on an application for a fellowship position at a local oncology department. As he scrawled notes and we passed the pond, his mobile rang in his pocket and across the chilly morning and the hush of the bus, a polyphonic version of Club Tropicana rang ...
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09.17.03EavesdroppingsTraffic jam on the way home. A mother plonked her shiny-haired toddler down on the seat beside me, while she sat behind. He wriggled and writhed and fiddled with my handbag, tickled my thigh and squeezed the side of my breast, behind my bicep. I put up with it because he was under three. In the seat in front, a woman with an SW accent had a protracted conversation with a friend, which over the course of 800 metres and about 20 minutes of slow moving traffic, covered topics as diverse as:SantoriniAustraliansNursesSandy bikini bottomsTeachersDublinVarious weddingsSepticemiaNew jobHospital bugsStoke NewingtonPoor mannersBarnes barsHangoversThe funeral ...
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08.04.03Overseen[what's the visual equivalent of eavesdropping anyway?] When they get on the bus, near the bridge, I assume that they are together, because they are so close. His pace matches hers exactly, and when she sits down on a seat near the back of the bus, I'm surprised that he does not join her. He takes a seat directly behind, and as the bus lurches off, propelling us forward in our seats, he closes his eyes, just for a millisecond longer than strictly required. Perhaps he is tired. Perhaps he is dizzy from the heat. Or perhaps he is briefly inhaling ...
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07.28.03Rapunzel on the 409London bus companies are participating in a conspiracy to make the city's travellers feel like giants. Moving the bus seats closer together a millimetre at a time means we feel as if we are slowly growing, no longer able to comfortably fit into the spaces they allow us. I have played space invaders on public transport for years. Mostly, it's someone's knee, thigh, elbow or bag, quietly competing with you for minute gains in seat or standing room territory. This morning, it was someone's hair. Continue Reading...
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04.20.03A Matter of TasteSo there you are with your Cadbury's Buttons Easter egg. It's got a little clear packet of pseudo-Buttons in it - they look like Buttons and taste like Buttons, but without the purple packaging, who could tell the real McCoy? But the chocolate itself tastes like....something else entirely; something which isn't buttons.So you've got a Kit Kat Chunky Easter egg. It comes in lots of cardboard and plastic packaging. It's a largish hollow egg, flanked by two proud Kit Kat Chunky bars. But the egg itself doesn't taste like Kit Kat. It tastes like.... Easter egg.So you sit down to ...
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03.20.03For posterityThis is what the first day at war looks like:A beautiful spring Thursday, with a clear blue sky. Blossom tumbles from the trees and eddies on the pavement.A busy Thursday of meetings and deadlines, without time to think.A man in the passenger seat of a red Golf, clasping a blue china mug as the vehicle speeds along the road.A long queue at the post office, and a clerk that smells like stale beer.Suffice to say, there's a lot going on at the moment.Walking home this evening, in a perfect spring sunset, I caught myself thinking about waiting. I've never been ...
