Wednesday, September 03, 2008
The man opposite gives me a disdainful, down his nose, offended kind of look when I put him to the trouble of moving his legs so I can sit down. It's something like the expression that flits across ThesaurusBoy's face whenever it's suggested that he might need to consider the possibility of dating women his own age.
The man is in no position to affect superiority: he has a beret, is wearing his glasses on top of his head and is reading Virginia Wolf in an ostentatious 'look at what I'm reading' kind of way. Or maybe it's just that he can't see properly because his glasses are on top of his head.
I spend a while considering my disappointing breakfast and wondering how come it matters if the Weetabix is soggy before you put the milk on. Something to do with science probably. I weigh up the chances of us owning some of those airtight, plastic cereal containers from Lakeland before the year's out.
When I look again, the book is face down on the table, on top of the beret. His eyes are closed. I can see he made it to somewhere about page seven.
Rain - Patty Griffin
Sticks & Stones - The Divine Comedy
Only The Good Die Young - Billy Joel
You've Done It Again Virginia - The National