Wednesday, March 12, 2008
SwarthyStellaDrinkingGuy is having a pally 'haven't seen you in ages' chat with someone he hasn't seen in ages. The reason for this, it transpires, is that he watches FC now, instead of Utd. I warm to him even more.
The passenger who gets on and sits behind me at PoshStation is chittering softly to himself, like a tiny monkey. He (I am pretty sure it is a 'he' although I daren't look round for confirmation) chides himself gently: "I told you so. I told you so" and, as the train pulls out, makes "woo-woo, woo-woo" noises under his breath.
He's sucking enthusiastically on a mint now. Chomping noisily, while managing to keep up the conversation he's having with himself. My curiosity gets the better of me, I want to know if he's a regular and therefore 'safe' or if I need to keep my wits about me. I half turn - but catch only a glimpse of wild, wiry, grey hair and an impression of frailty.
As we disembark, LaidBackCommuter gestures his usual 'after you' and asks if I've recovered from the morning. Belying his name he says: "I was so angry I nearly had a stroke".
If my battery hadn't died this morning I would be oblivious to any of this.