Busy

Hello, are you still there? December and the rainy days have found us. Weekdays are spent trying, and failing, to get to the tube before eight to try and get me some space on the tube. The first few times I took the tube, since I moved, I kind of liked it. But now the novelty has worn off. This morning I skipped the tube and waited for the next one, which was coming a minute later. I was the only person on the platform but then every few seconds another person appeared until one minute later, there were about thirty people ready to board the already packed train.

The tube; full of people reading the free papers or books. Nobody looking at one another. Heading out of the tube to get the Metropolitan Line (which I like because I usually get a seat, and the train spends time above ground), I try and avoid people with suitcases, couples with arms linked, people walking along playing games on their phones. Anyone that will slow me down. Occasionally I smell an aftershave or a perfume that reminds me of years ago. I follow a man with a briefcase to try and locate a particular aftershave smell; it must have been the eighties, it was the age and time to overindulge in exotic smells to try and attract girls.

I like the clock at the tube station. It looks like a clock that someone would have in their house. Perhaps it was donated by an old lady on Gillepsie road. I like Gillespie road, I like the fact when you come out the tube it opens onto a normal suburban looking street, with the school at the end of it. It feels homely. I like the atmosphere on match day too, with the sweet stall and the hotdog stands and all those people in their scarves heading to the match.

When I go past that clock in the morning I'm going to make sure it hasn't yet reached eight o'clock.