More Tales from the Underground

Hello Readers. How is January treating you? I know it can be a sucker punch of a month, when you're already feeling a little larger than usual after the Christmas celebrations, and tired of the rain and cold, and stupid storms with ridiculous names - which I guess they give them in order to humanise them, and then you have a name to yell as you shout to the skies and curse them for all eternity. And that return to work or study or school is like going out into said, absurdly named storm, wearing only underwear, but still, the year has to start somewhere, right?

In this rant I'd like to tell you about two things that happened on the tube this week. I am using the tube and trains a lot more than I used to do, and thankfully, the 46 bus less and less. We all know how I feel about that stringy turd of a bus route.

And so, I'll start with the annoying thing that happened to me yesterday. I was sat reading my Italian Short Stories for Intermediate Readers book - oh yes, I'm intermediate now. Whoop. Though I still have to underline a lot of words and circle things in a WTF does that mean sort of way - when two women sat either side of me and as the train moved off, they both encroached on me with their elbows, taking over both arm rests and caging me in. I'm not sure how they expected me to make myself any smaller. It was like I wasn't even there. Rude.

I tried to fight back, silently, by rearranging myself and trying to fan out my elbows a bit, but the territory had been staked. I mean, I expect this from men, but women of the world, I thought we were together in solidarity. I thought we looked out for one another. If you start this, then there's no escape. I will be forever trapped between other people's elbows. Though I can't really ask women to stop this because men do it all the time and I'm all about equality. But hey, stop it! All of you. I need space too.

And then to the wonderful thing that happened on Wednesday. I was reading my Sylvia Plath Letters Home book, though it's more of a brick, and some guy taps me on the shoulder and gestures for me to take out my ear buds. I oblige and then we have a lovely conversation about the book and about Plath and how incredible she was, and how young, and how tragic it was. And people say nobody talks to each other in London and we hate strangers and we all keep to ourselves and it's unfriendly and a hostile place to live. And I say, bugger off.

Yes, people mainly keep to themselves, but that could be for any number of reasons and when you do have these moments with complete strangers, bonding over a pair of incredible shoes, or a haircut that you think is gorgeous and you just have to tell the person, or you notice someone reading a book by an author you love, or you see someone writing sheet music whilst sat on the floor of the train and you want to comment, then these moments become even more special.

Thank you book guy. And please everyone, watch those elbows. I have as much right to arm rests as you do.

Just a short one today. Thanks for reading.

Rants