Many things I see amuse me. For instance, the man that sat opposite on the train the other day, munching on a cabbage. Like an apple. A full on cabbage. In all its rawness. Like an apple. On first glance I took it for a lettuce and thought, bit odd, but not overly absurd; on taking a closer look I realised it was a raw cabbage being eaten from its wrapper. Wow. He was hungry. Laden with Sainsbury's bags he clearly just couldn't wait until he got home to crack into his purchases and had selected the cabbage as the most suitable snack. Digestives were also in his bag.
This journey reminded me of a wonderfully horrific tube ride I had a while back. Standing propped against the side of the carriage making my way merrily along I was unaware of the horror to come. The train came to a halt. The doors slid open. In entered the most disgusting wave of smell that I have ever experienced. I turned to look down the carriage and the culprit was stood there. Faces were subtly aghast; in the very British way of polite ignorance the passengers were doing their utmost to keep their noses from crinkling. The kids however, made no pretence of pulling their jumpers up over their faces. The couple next to me began to plot a cunning plan. The carriage hop. I contemplated joining their escape but decided to stay put. Mistake. When the train stopped at the next station and they hopped down the platform and into the adjoining carriage of sweet London underground air, I instead moved further down my carriage into a newly available seat. I thought this was an excellent find as I was now positioned right at the end of the carriage, the furthest away possible from the smell. Wrong. I had failed to spot that the only other freshly free seats were in my row. One of which was next to me. Next to me in my end of the row squashed in the corner seat. As the smell got stronger I felt his presence nearing. I shared a nervous smile with the woman opposite me. We didn't know what to do with ourselves. Her half amused half terrified expression told me she was feeling exactly the same; time seemed to slow as the man advanced and various possibilities were considered in my mind. Will he sit next to me? Will he sit a few seats along? Is it too late to get up and move? No, that's too obvious I've only just sat down. If he sits next to me, will I be able to make it through the journey without fainting? Panic, fear and amusement all mounted as the man approached; along with a warming feeling of unity amongst myself and fellow passengers. The unspoken communication between us gave a refreshing communal edge to the tension. At last it reached the moment of truth. The smell bearer had arrived at our row of seats. I held my breath. He took a few paces. And sat. A few seats along from me. THANK GOODNESS. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Which was an error. A huge breath out must be followed by a huge breath in.
On the subject of the tube, I made another discovery on the underground yesterday. If you're in a rush, going down stairs two steps at a time just doesn't work.
