On the metropolitan line the seats in the train face forwards (or backwards), rather than sideways. There is heat under the seats keeping the backs of your legs warm. As you head south towards Baker Street there is a section that takes you overground. To the right is a block of flats with balconies, balconies overflowing with bikes and plants, one balcony has old mattresses filling its space. Another has suitcases being rained on. Is there no room for suitcases in that flat? Maybe these suitcases belong to guests? Maybe they’ve said to their guests, ‘ there’s no room for your stuff here. We told you to travel light. And if you think you’re keeping your toothbrush with ours, forget it you un-hygienic baboons. It belongs out on the balcony with the rest of your stuff’.
I’m getting ready for my holiday. Not that I’ll need a suitcase to visit my own flat, but I’m looking forward to the time off. Just a few work obstacles to get out the way; a meeting with the Client, a page to update, stuff to send, then I can lie in a hammock between two trees and spend my days reading in the sunshine.
You don’t have a garden, let alone two trees. And sunshine? The clocks have gone forward and its due to snow again. Oh go away, voice of reason. The voice of reason is also persuading me I need to ring the council to ask where my parking permit has got to, but I’m resisting. Resisting having to ring up automated answering services or people who can’t help me at all but will helpfully put me through to someone else who has even less of a clue than they do.
All they need to do is send a parking permit, two trees and a hammock. I’ve got the books lined up.
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