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Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Breakfast Meeting.

Everything you know about being in London feeling sometimes like you're a sardine in a can is true. Especially at morning peak hour on public transport.

I try never to have work meetings first thing, but had to a while back. This meant a short one hop train ride to the cloying Highbury and Islington station at around 8:45am. The worst time to be there. I waited on the platform with the upright morning warriors for the first hop train. It arrived, exactly as it meant to. We all got on. There's a particular polite jostle that natives do, allowing space and making small adjustments to allow the right space in the can. I backed into a tiny void, and then it happened.

My bum cheeks aligned precisely with those of a fellow commuter. The match was unnerving. Neither of us moved away, and the gentle rocking of the carriage maintained the slight and enjoyable pressure. We stayed in that position until the train arrived at Highbury and Islington. I didn't turn around, and neither did he.

I alighted, and didn't look back, and had a grin on my face as I arrived at my meeting. And still do when I think of it.

Posted at 5:38 pm

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