Wednesday, May 12, 2010

And We're Rolling, Rolling, Rolling down the Rive.

I changed carriages today.

Mainly because I didn't want the harassment of the 8 school kids who are travelling outwith their placement zone to attend the good school where I live, and in doing so ruining it's reputation in a 7 minute journey.  I only have to tolerate them for 3 minutes, but the language and behaviour to each other, and other travellers is intolerable.  I reported them to the head teacher last week, who replied that he would "endeavour" to identify them.  It's easy. Look at the placement requests, pull out all the pupils from Nowhere Land, and rip in to them.

My new carriage was lovely.  I got a window seat - reverse to direction, but that doesn't matter to me.  Across from me empty.  Diagonally opposite, a professor I think.  He had a book of Fossils.  The fact that he had fallen asleep while reading it, suggests maybe not a professor, but a student. A mature student, influenced by Ross in Friends (poor choice), and deciding late in life to become a love-lorn paleontologists.  He disembarked at the Airport. Maybe he was going on a trip to dig up some fossils. Maybe he was going to a dig, like Sam King in Jurassic Park?

When Professor got off, a Film Director got on.  He was fascinated by make-up lady, but not distracted enough, not to pull out his copy of "A Street Car Named Desire", with all his notes attached, wave it around in the air, so that we all recognised him for the artist he was, and then put it away again.  The real star of this carriage was make up lady.

Sitting on the same side as me, a young girl, who got on bereft of make-up. I have to say she looked pretty rough. But then, to my amazement, she pulled from her massive bag, toner, and toned.  Moisturiser and Moisturised.  Then a stream of make-up, proud of any counter, and completely transformed herself.  The effort however had been put to waste, when she stood up and her skirt was stuck to the waistband of itself.

Across from me on the opposite side of the train, a lady watched me sewing.  I could see her, because she was watching my hands.  It is so lovely that doing something that occupies people with your hands, allows you to examine what is going on around you, without "intruding" as it were.

She was watching the make-up artist with fascination.   A chap who had been sitting opposite her, with his sterling silver flask, harrumphed at the make-up putting on, and stood and moved to a newly empty seat. Looked down his nose at everyone, supped some of his home made coffee, which was obviously far superior to Costa, Nero or Coffee and Co, we rarely see Starbucks down here), and then picked up a Daily Record and began to read.  You just let yourself down big time there big man.

As I got off the Train, I met Andy, who is normally on my carriage. I explained why I had moved carriage, and told him I had reported the offended youngsters to the school. I'm not sure if that made him happy or not. He has a strange way of expressing himself, but I think he likes me, and I think maybe he was happy someone had done something.

I also spotted man who I follow at fast pace, and nodded hello to him.  One morning, after being pounced on by a junkie for a "light, or lighter even", i chased down the street after a face I knew, in order to afford myself some protection.  I think the poor man thought I was chasing him. It was 2 weeks before I saw him on the train again. I like to think he was on holiday, and no avoiding me.   I have explained to him what we are doing, and now I like to think that he is proud to be my protector.

Only one of Blond and Beautiful were there this morning. Not sure, where the other one was.  Blond, is not particularly beautiful.  She is petite, yes, dressed like a shop dummy in one of the "hip" dress shops, handy with hairpieces, and constantly updating the orange effect all over her body.  She is like little Tango Lady.   Her feet are almost dried apricot with hard skin. It is difficult to look at without pulling faces.  She wears the most amazing shoes; i have no idea how she manages to balance all the way to her work.

As I excited the Station, there was Gavin.  I call him Gavin, because my Son decided on a name.  I think it suits, because he is love-struck like Gavin in the TV show.  Gavin is on my train every morning, I'm not sure where he gets on, but every day, Gavin leaves the train, goes through the barriers and waits for Nessa/Peggy.  I call her Nessa because her attitude is similar to Nessa of Gavin and Stacy.  I called her Peggy, as a nice way of saying Piggy, cause she bears a fantastic resemblance to Miss Piggy, in shape, form, and attitude. I suppose I should just call her Peggy, but I like the Gavin and Stacy connection.

Gavin was let down today. Peggy wasn't there.  You would think when the work together, she could at least text and say "don't wait I'm not on the train".  I've sat next to her a couple of times, and she has audibly groaned when she see him.  But her demeanour and attitude don't put Gav off.  He waits patiently like a wee pup for her everyday. And when she isn't there.  His tail droops.

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