Category
Transport
-
01.25.08Innovate this!One of the things about taking a train into central London rather than bus/tube, is that I've noticed certain cultural incidents which pass poor tube-travellers by. Namely: there appears to be some sort of pissing contest going on (not literally) (though it's possible, of course) between rival estate agents in South West London. How do we know this? Well, on the SWTrains route into Waterloo, there's a succession of stations sponsored by estate agents all adopting slogans bragging about how innovative they are, each trying to out-do the last. Leaving aside for the moment the issue of whether "innovation" in the context ...
-
01.22.08IndeedThe bus I take home from the tube is on diversion at the moment because of some roadworks in the neighbourhood, and as a result, in order to avoid a tedious two mile detour in heavy traffic, it makes sense to get off the bus much earlier and walk home. It's not far - about fifteen minutes or so - but in the rain of last week it got fairly old pretty quickly. And then, just when we thought that was bad enough, the other night, congestion was so bad in Hammersmith - gridlock, in fact - that no buses, or ...
-
12.02.07At the risk of turning this into a rantblog, a pet hateIt's late and dark and chilly, and I'm waiting on the street for a vacant cab to come along. The pub doors open and a small, jovial huddle pours out onto the street, and assumes a position on the kerb, half a block downstream of me. They similarly scour the oncoming traffic for an orange light. After a minute or so of unsuccessfully flagging occupied cabs and seeing nothing of use, one of the group spots me, whispers to the others and then, en masse, the shuffle past me, nonchalantly, to casually take a kerbside position a respectable distance - ...
-
11.27.07Putting onWhite ribbons drooping from cutaway like-a-virgin lacy gloves, and with soft scarves and loose threads dangling from her bag, her jacket, her waist, her ponytail, the bobbles which swing from the top of her boots, she is a limp Medusa of the morning - all sleepy limbs, swaying extensions and and yawning. Nodding along with the music in her ears which leaks out occasionally in silver-cymballed beads and the chirrups of tree-frogs, she skillfully applies first concealer, then foundation, to smooth her half-woken skin, dull the bright spots of chilled flush on her cheeks, cover the shadows under her eyes. ...
-
11.23.07Overheard at the bus stopOldish woman wearing a red coat, to another, with bulging handbag: 'Scuse me...I think I recognise you from somewhere. Can't think where, though.... Other woman: [smiles] Off the telly? Maybe? First woman: [cocks head on one side and pauses] No, that's not it... Second woman: I'm an Actor? In, um, Eastenders? [smiles at the other people in the bus stop, as if to indicate that this happens all the time] First woman: [studies the other woman for another moment] OH! I know! You look like that woman in the lamp shop down the road! Second woman: [looks confused] ... First woman: [reassuringly, smiling] ...it's the hair. Second ...
-
10.22.07Three tube sketchesShe's got new shoes. At the end of long, bare and goose-pimpled legs, they are conspicuously shiny and uncomfortable, and she does not know what to do with them. They are tucked together primly, her knees higher than she is used to. They are stretched out in front, swaying on the points of the heels. They are pigeon-positioned, with her tote bag between ankles. Her toes wiggle in their unfamiliar confines, and she finds herself sneaking glances at these new additions, admiringly, just as other commuters do the same to her. Trotters stuffed in phat-laced white adidas, with jeans suitably distressed ...
-
10.17.07Things I don’t want to see you doing on the tubeClipping your nails (biting is just about bearable, but any activity which results in bits which were previously attached to your body suddenly arcing through the air towards me is a no-no) Picking your nose (especially if you subsequently eat/flick/wipe your boogers - see (1), above) Scratching your noggin (most especially when it causes a scurfy blizzard to erupt, which then settles in drifts on my clothing and alights on my nose and eyelashes) Picking your feet (including and especially if they're on the seat next to you and/or you're wearing flip-flops. There is never a right time to debride yourself in public.) Scratching ...
-
10.15.07A World In Your EarSo, I didn't really get podcasts when they first became popular a few years back. This is probably mostly to do with the fact that, since my commute was a) above ground and b) short, I was more than happy to just listen to the radio on the way to and from work, which seemed to coincide perfectly with BBC Radio Four's morning slot (9am - things like Andrew Marr's Start the Week plus The Long View, Midweek, Desert Island Discs and Thursday's Boffinmungous (oh, alright, In Our Time, presented by Melvyn Bragg, and then on the way home at ...
-
07.27.07Things my commute has taught me #2: the space raceFollowing on from my earlier ruminations about commuter seating preferences on the tube, I thought it was about time that I jotted down another thing I've noticed in the process of travelling across London every day (and back) during the peak busy periods. We all know that tubes are crowded during rush hour. Space is a commodity, and it's hard fought for, clung to, and bitterly conceded. But what's interesting is the inventive ways that people find to create or compensate for a lack of space. When seated, there are three main methods for preserving personal space: Putting things on the seat beside ...
-
06.20.07Order, orderApologies for the crapness of this camphone photo, but crossing the road to the bus stop this morning I was struck by how perfectly all the commuters in the line were preserving their personal space. Lovely. I've written about queuing here before, notably:The Fine Art of Queuing - in which I attempt to buy a sieve in a backstreet Bolivian hardware storeThe Revolting Queue - in which the locals turn nasty when someone cuts inIn the Queue - in which I'm accosted by an oddball...and others, I'm sure. H2G2 has a nice breakdown of queue typology here. And I liked this invention ...
recent posts
- Things I might write about at some point, but not now
- Back from over there
- A Life in Pictures
- The sound of silence
- Here it goes again
- As You Like It
- “Nighthawks” at the Chippy?
-
Looking for the Anti-Valentines?
