Hey there. It's been a while. I'd apologise, but I've been busy. Busy attempting to compile submissions of my latest novel. Busy watching too much Commonwealth Games. Busy writing emails that largely go unread. Busy eating chocolate and putting on weight. You know? Busy!
Yesterday I got on the Overground train, where there isn't really a crazy rush hour, so it's quite pleasant when you have to take it in what would otherwise be construed as rush hour. And a stop after me, a young woman got on, probably in her mid to late twenties. I moved aside to let her past me - and my giant backpack on wheels that I have to cart all my instruments around in - and she just brushed past this guy stood on the other side of the carriage from me. Just a light brush, nothing really. And anyone travelling in London on any form of transport expects more than a light brush past from their fellow commuters. But he was instantly enraged and he physically shoved her away and told her to fuck off and just stay away from him. The entire carriage turned towards him but he held his ground and she shrank away, though she did say back that she hadn't done anything.
I asked if she was alright and she was gently carried off by other passengers to stand in a 'safer' part of the train, away from the massive man who could probably crush most of us with his bare hands. Not joking. The guy was super tall and built like a brick wall. And he continued to mutter to himself about not touching him, and just staying away from him.
And believe me, we were. This huge arc of space opened up around him, which is difficult to achieve on an 8.30 train, even if it's not usually crazy full. Every single woman in the carriage, which was around eighty percent of the carriage, had their eyes on him. If he had made another move, I think at least ten of us would have jumped on him and scratched his eyes out. They looked primed and ready to go. It's certainly one way to bring a bunch of strangers together.
And at every subsequent stop, there was a communal intake of breath - will he be getting off here and then we can relax? - which had to be let out because he stayed on almost as long as I did. I can honestly say there were a lot of us reading books, but we had one eye on the guy the entire time. Losing yourself in the narrative was not an option.
Eventually, he started collecting his stuff to leave, and he must have felt the hatred in the eyes that glared at him. He must have been feeling that all along the journey, and he started making his way into the other side of the carriage. Again, all eyes followed. And I saw his head bobbing between people and then a hand raised for a high five. He had gone back to the woman and apologised to her.
And then he got off the train and we let out our collective breath knowing that the threat was gone.
The apology doesn't get him off the hook. Not in my eyes. I mean, how many times will he do it again? And it could be worse. So much worse. What if that person had been elderly? What if the person had fallen down? What if the person had been pregnant? What if the person had been a child or teenager? However, the fact that he even went over to apologise to her was certainly not something I had expected. Though, perhaps the force of a hundred or so eyes staring you down the entire journey could physically move you to do something?
So there you go. Never a dull moment...
Now, I need to vent about high waist jeans. They are uncomfortable as fuck! If you sit down in them, they shove themselves, button first, into your stomach reserves. And just try eating in them, you'll wish you were in your pyjamas. I'm telling you. All my jeans have always sat on the hip and have been wide leg or flared - I still shun the skinny and always will. However, the only flared jeans you can get now are high waist and super uncomfortable. I long for the early 00s again, when jeans were fabulous.
And I know the chocolate eating doesn't help, but they make me feel confined and give me really bad trapped wind. Yes, I said it. They're uncomfortable and restrictive and it's such a shame because I bought two pairs. I do really like the way they look but I feel like I'll have to lose half a stone to be able to wear them remotely comfortably, and only when stood up. They are a standing jean. most definitely. Most of the time if I'm sat down the button is open. At the cinema, in the house, the button is open. Well, in the house I often give up and go and put on comfy trousers or pyjama bottoms.
I really wouldn't have coped with the time of corsets would I? I like to be able to breath and move and sit and walk and eat comfortably. I hate feeling squashed or restrained. Ah well, with this nice weather, I'll more like be in my shorts and they're super comfy. Hooray!
I miss the Commonwealth Games, though on the other hand, I'm glad it's over, because there were way too many distractions. If it wasn't the first five days of Gymnastics, then it was the next five days of Athletics. And if it wasn't either of those, then it was Netball and Beach Volleyball and Hockey and Swimming and Diving - really, where do they put their willies in those teeny shorts? - and if you're really procrastinating, you'll even get involved in the Lawn Bowls. Yes, there I said it. I became involved in the Lawn Bowls. Don't judge me. I just love a multi sport championship, clearly even more than writing my synopses. Well obviously. I freakin' hate writing synopses. And the fact that every agent wants a different length is just about killing me. I have to make four different synopses and I have yet to write one. Yay!
And so, I sit here and write this blog - yet another distraction, but a welcome one - whilst men in high- vis vests stomp by my window, on the fifth floor, because of the annoying scaffolding that will be up until September. My view is blocked. The sunlight is blocked and they have put some weird blue netting up, which is great in that no one can get in from the outside, but it also completely warps the view and the reality of the sky outside. And they drill and they stomp and they sometimes sing, and they peer in through the windows, but I can't always have them closed. I need some natural light.
Last thing. And I know I complain about this every time a friend of mine has a kid, but the card situation and the gender being determined by blue and pink has to stop! I liked lots of cards but they were specifically for a baby boy, just because they had elements of blue on them, and my friends have just had a girl. Now, we all know my hatred for the colour pink, but this just fuels it. And so, I had to search for a card with other colours, different wording and eventually found one with a big yellow sun that said: Welcome Little One. Is that so hard? Thank you Caroline Gardner, courtesy of Paperchase.
Alas, I must go. Parent emails will not write themselves, though I would bloody love if it they did. And then I must Synopsisise - I'm just make words up now - because they certainly don't write themselves either.
Thanks for reading.
Enjoy the sunshine.
Rants
