Let me kick off with this wonderful recreation of the Chelsea Football Hooligan re-enactment!
Like many, I have a love and hate relationship with the London Underground. It’s great, it gets me from A to B and then to C and Z all within the tap of my Oyster because thanks to the London Underground, London is my Oyster and I love it.
What I don’t love about the London Underground is the fact that not only has my fare has risen by £8 in the past two years, despite nearly being delayed for every day since and being given the poor excuses for delays such as:
A person under the train
A passenger alarm
Regulating the service
A red signal
I mean I couldn’t care a twiddly wink if the queen majesty her highness graced her presence on the London Underground, I want to get to work on time!
However, The London Underground does offer on occasion some of my life’s most entertaining moments including the awkward proximity (during the morning or evening rush) to a complete stranger. The London Underground is a place which satisfies my fascination with people watching and the ability to observe the latest fashions trends and faux pas! It also allows for me to analyse people with my untrained but observant eye. I love watching the way people behave on the Underground and how I even find myself becoming consumed by others frustrations.
It is indeed wonderful watching the way people interact with strangers and the uncomfortable glances one receives when they sit down regardless of the other person who has projected their being to that seat with no luck!
The way you register the emotions of a reader of a fascinating book.
The way you catch someone looking at their neighbours phone, reading the entire text about how that guy didn’t text back after that “meaningful” one night stand she had that she is adamant wasn’t a mistake! And then realises that her neighbour has read the entire conversation and dares not to look directly to her right but instead uncomfortably fiddles with her phone whilst her neighbour overt’s his gaze to the advertisement above selling PPI insurance with an awkwardly stiff neck and uncomfortable angle of his eyebrows….
Or the time where I saw a real life Gimp at Mile End Station waiting for the Central line. Another commuter was also very amused by what he saw and asked what we were seeing, so me being as inquisitive as the cat, went over to check it out. It was not Halloween nor was the person going to a university party. The person was covered from head to toe mainly in PVC the only visible bit of skin was the persons pink lips which were squashed through a breathing hole. So that I was not staring at this individual, I introduced myself with a hand to shake to which there was no response other than a stare through dark sunglasses, feeling slightly rejected, I asked the person if it would be ok if I took a photograph. The person just shrugged its shoulders and then made a noise which can only be described as a rubber duck sound. I took that as a yes and pulled out my phone to take a photograph and so did everyone else around me! It was a phenomenal relief for those too shy to say anything because everyone was itching to talk to the person! It was a rare encounter indeed!
On other occasions, I have observed beautiful acts of dedication by couples in love, looking into one and others eyes. On a particularly memorable occasion where there a beautiful lady wearing a very flattering red dress with vivacious curves and incredibly high Louboutin stilettos, tip toed onto the train to attract every single man’s attention except one. This man was sat gazing into the eyes of the woman he loved. She was a naturally beautiful woman, no taller than 5″4 and startled by the lady in red’s presence, I could see the discomfort in her while she sat there trying to maintain the gaze from her partner whilst observing the “competition” and then the moment which took everyone by surprise…The lady in red, terribly frustrated at the fact that the loved up gentleman was not paying her any mind, tapped his shoulder whilst he stared into his tiny love’s eyes in awe of her petite presence only to find that he ignored the lady in red’s advance to find that in her embarrassment, she tiptoed off the train with three other leery admirers following her to her next destination.. “Oiy my size!”.
I must say that I found this one of the most defining moments of both womanhood but also of the sweet commitment of a man clearly in love. His petite princess blushed as the train left the lady in red behind and he held her hand gazing into her eyes in complete silence. On the ugly side, I was appalled by the lady in red and her bunny boiling attitude which frightened me not only for her own moral concious but to the realisation that this is how many female’s operate!
From high notes to low noted and near fisty cuffs with martially trained individuals demanding that they have some personal space, the London Underground is a place where you can bump into people you would never have been able to see, like the time I met with Professor Dolores Umbridge and acted like a kid in Hogwarts for the first time! It is a bitter sweet relationship that I have with the London Underground, a place which is embedded within my DNA and a place which needs to be acknowledged and certainly
A place where you must not smile at strangers!
And you may want to avoid doing THIS!