Bi-trainual

So I have previously written of my scandelous sleeping with a bloke or two on my train before, but I have a confession to make. 

I am Bi-trainual. 

She had bleach blonde hair like my teenage dreams could only wish for, and a skirt that showed just the right amount of leg*. We exhanged a shy smile as she got on, and before long, her face was drifting towards me, and I knew what was about to happen. 

I was shocked, I was amused, I was… strangely moved**. It was much calmer and quieter than my previous forays into this situation, somehow less intimate, more guarded, and with significantly less saliva. 

She looks like she is having a right good nap though…

 

 

 

* However much she damn well pleased. 

** Because she needed more space as she lolled over.  

Posh George

George is about six years old, based on the pitch of his voice. He is from somewhere down South as he speaks very nice RP English. He doesn’t listen to his Mum* but only because he is so interested in narrating the train journey, not because he is a brat. 

So far, we have been reliably informed that this train does not have tables, but it’s ok because it has arm rests which are the best seats to have. We have gone over the world’s tallest railway bridge** and through the world’s darkest railway tunnel. And we have discovered that his little brother’s book, which he can’t read himself, has thousands and thousands and thousands of pages. Posh George is currently deacribing his fantastic new invention the ride has given him the idea for, but I can’t tell you what it is***. 

They have only been on for one stop so far. This journey to work could very well be my favourite in ages. 

 

 

 

* Hence how we know he is called George. His brother Oliver keeps needing reminding he should sit with his bottom too.

** The darkly intoned ‘Don’t look down’ was both adorable and mildly terrifying.

*** Because he has been talking for five minutes and still hasn’t made it clear what the invention actually is. I think this is a very clever way of stopping me from stealing it and making my millions. Touche Posh George, touche… 

Obnoxious Couple

I like train couples. They are generally sweet, or at least good for a giggle*. And a reaffirmation of love on a morning or evening is just nice to see.  But now I have met Obnoxious Couple I am beginning to rethink my position. 

She has the worlds most annoying laugh. It’s like finger nails down a blackboard, only at a much higher pitch of squeel. And he keeps tickling her, pulling on her hijjab**, nuzzling her face, and basically doing all he can to make her laugh. Everyone around them flinches each time.

And they are being so loud! Honestly I don’t know how anyone can be so awake at 8am. I’m still partially comatose. Whatever they had for breakfast I want some. 

AND I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED ON THE KISSING NOISES! Loud smacks and slurps, like an octopus eating a particularly juice steak***. I think I may throw up if they don’t stop. 

I love love. Just maybe not before I have had my first cup of tea… 

 

 

 

* I hope that Totes Adorbs Hipster Couple are ok. They must have finished Uni cos I haven’t seen them since Summer. I like to think they have a little hipster house together and start each day with avocado on toast and fresh squeezed orange juice in a mason jar, which they Instagram religiously. 

** In the current climate I feel the need to clarify, they are not annoying because of their race. They are annoying because they are, as the name suggests, incredibly obnoxious.

*** I assume the steak is manatee, the sea cow.

Overly Clingy Boyfriend 

“You sit there and I will sit here,” Normally Attached Girlfriend states, pointing at the two seats, one behind the other. 

“No, I’ll squash on with you to put three of us on this two seater seat,” replies Overly Clingy Boyfriend. “Can you budge up a bit? Yes I know that you are practically sat on that girl’s lap* but heaven forbid we be seperated for even a second. I will clutch your hand in a way that is clearly making you feel uncomfortable** so that you know how much I love and need you and will never let you go. Ever.”

Pass the sick bucket / anti stalker hot line number… 

 

 

 

* That would be me. 

** I am also uncomfortable too. You are both far too close to me. 

Conductor Forgetful 

“Have I already seen your ticket?” 

Yes Conductor Forgetful. Twice. As well as many more times in the past month because it is a monthly pass. 

I have purple hair, bright pink lipstick and a snazzy leaopard print skirt*. I would like to think I stand out a bit more than the 12 other people in the carriage, who are all wearing black coats and ‘Is it Friday yet’ faces…** 

 

 

 

* Maybe it’s the camouflage jacket. It might be working!

** Yes, I am aware how big headed I sound. But doesn’t he know who I am?!

Blind Lute Player

Three words you don’t necessarily picture together. But yes, I have been sat next to a blind lute player today. He asked when he got on if I would mind just checking each stop that noone took his instruments from the rack near the door each stop, so I’ve been meerkating my head round each stop to check on his lute and double bass. 

He’s doing a gig in Gloucestershire tonorrow, but is visiting his friend the lute maker tonight first*.

In amongst the lovestruck teens and the football hooligans, its nice to be thrown a curve ball of a travelling companion. And he gave me a cd of his music to say thank you for my help. 

Some days, commuting is pretty damned cool. 

 

 

 

* At this point I became convinced that the train had made a stop in the Canterbury Tales. A lute maker! I knew I lived in a very local place for local people but I didn’t realise it was that quaint! 

Tiny Man… 

Now, intelectually I know that size doesn’t matter, and its what you do with it that counts. But the man sat infront of me has the smallest one I have ever seen. Its barely a centimeter long and not much wider. 

He’s a tall man too, so it was a bit of shock when he reavealed it. 

He’s bent over, face set in a determined grimace, staring hard and focusing intently, fingers swiping away. Which is of course when it came in to view. That tiny, slightly ridiculous looking, completely pointless appendage. 

Hanging off the back of his head. 

I’m talking about a Tiny Man Bun of course. What were you think of? *
 

 

 

 

* He’s bending over his phone playing a matching game.**

** You pervert. 

Volunteer Forgetful

“Have I asked you to do a survey?” 

Yes love, twice before this time. And you took back the one I completed. 

I have blue hair, bright red shoes and the same coat as you – you would think I might stand out on a train full of smart looking men and women… *
 

 

 

* I can’t talk mind, I am super forgetful too. I blame the toxic hair dye chemicles seeping into my brain. 

Conductor Moriarty

Ok I may just have been too into last nights episode of ‘Sherlock’* but I swear the Conductor on my late train home is a blonde Moriarty. 

Does that mean the train is actually my Mind Palace? And Computer Geek and TAHC are all just characters I have created to help me solve crimes? **

Quick – bring me Benedict Cumberbatch stat! 

 

 

 

* Who could blame me, it was AMAZING! 

** It would explain a lot…

Mr Northern England

Mr Northern England has Opinions*. 

“It’s only 3mm of snow and they run it on the bloody news! Most of Europe must be laughing at us. And Canada. And America**.”

He is not wrong actually. My train has run almost on time, which is a miracle considering that it seems to struggle with sunshine, but in the half hour I’ve been up two people have said to me “Ooh I didn’t think it safe to drive” even though the roads are clear. 

“It’s Northern England, it should be cold and snowy.”

This then began a debate on when the last proper sledge worthy snow fall was. 2013 we think, or possibly 2011.

“You just put on a hat and get on with it!”

And this is my new moto for life. Thank you Mr Northern England***.  

 

 

 

* Correct Opinions, which nevertheless deserve the capitalisation. 

** To be fair we are laughing at America right now. Their soon to be presidents name is slang for fart! On top of everything else! 

*** Although Railway Grandad’s response of “Gives you something to talk about at the train station though” was a close second. Business Teen added nothing to the conversation as she has business to focus on and wouldn’t be stopped even by 10 foot of snow.