Underground Overground

Underground Overground
This morning, the tube was particularly hellish. It is a curious sensation not having one iota of personal space in a crowd of grumpy strangers; it is indeed a sweaty sensation. It is a sensation that makes me want to beg the person next to me to set my toes on fire because the distraction would be a welcome respite from the hell I am experiencing. This morning, it was fractionally even worse than usual, because for the first time this year I have broken out the boots and sweater winter attire which doesn't do much for the old sweat situation. So I tried to take my sweater off (don't panic, I had another top on underneath) but due to the space situation only managed to hike it up around my armpits before getting stuck. So I remained, wearing my sweater like one of those 80s hoods around my neck and shoulders and tried to look like it was a deliberate fashion statement. It was at this point that I saw JD Fortune on the tube. Luckily in the interests of me not screaming, fainting or accidentally nibbling on him a bit, it wasn't really him, but a picture of him accompanying an interview with him in this morning's Metro. So I contorted, still with my sweater snugly hugging me just above my boobs, sweat still pouring down my face, to read the interview over some bloke's shoulder. Unfortunately, Mr Fortune, as he is wont to do, made some witty comment and I quite inadvertantly snorted with laughter, rather startling the bloke who was unknowingly sharing his paper with me. At this point, one of my Ipod earphones fell out, dangling just in front of the bloke's head and giving him a good blast of INXS. I don't really blame him for the somewhat judgemental look that he gave me.

Re emerging back into the world at St Paul's tube station minutes later, my mobile bleeped. Chuffed that someone clearly loved me enough to ring me at such an ungodly hour, I listened to my voicemail... to hear no less than 16 voicemails from people telling me to get the Metro.