A Flash of London I
Posted: Tuesday, January 31, 2012
by Sara O'Rourke
It is the classic thing, and strangely poetic, I suppose, to begin these series of articles with a commuter journey into the capital. This, after all, marks the beginning of a long, London day.
I hop on at Bicester, near Oxford. Not the nicest of places. The familiar British weather spits its silvery drops, spotting the cold train window with a light, rhythmic tapping. In the next seat, a tinny fuzz comes from the earphones of a middle-aged man. I try not to smirk at his look of sheer confusion and frustration as he squints through thick lenses at his mp3 and blots the tiny screen clumsily wth his chubby fingers.
Two business men get on at Gerarrd's Cross - by the sound of their banter, they are great friends. They are wearing matching striped scarves, neatly tucked into their coats, and warming their hands on a couple of matching grande cappuccinos. Loudly (proudly) discussing their days ahead, they make sure to drop in the occasional sport-related comment, becoming kids again. My guess is, for all their talk of money-making, they deep down cannot wait for 7pm and walking through their front doors to their families again.
And then, of course, there is little, old me, tucked up in the corner of a three-seater row, my tartan coat over my knees as a blanket and my mind working away, inspired by the whizzing colours of towns passing by. For me, the prospect of a hot, flaky cornish pasty at Marylebone station gets me through, although part of me feels guilty. 'Oh well', I conclude, and I bet that all these people are craving exactly the same.
The jolly man is singing now... perhaps someone ought to let him know we're in the 'quiet zone'.
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