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Thursday, 4 December 2008
No munch (rhymes with credit crunch)
Just a short post to keep my 5 readers happy. While it may not necessarily be the credit crunch that’s causing a lack of posts, the prices of food around London seems to be going in opposite directions to the temperature (re: up).
A little rant here (lack of food, lack of mood).
Buses
Successfully catching a bus in London is like me saying no to free food (a rare occurrence). There are many reasons why this happens (bus, not food).
The first, probably most logical explanation for this is that the bus companies are short of buses. However, when empty buses zoom by the bus stop with a wave at you, it’s difficult to empathise with the bus shortage explanation. It’s even more difficult to empathise (with anything at all) when you’re freezing, slightly green (nauseous from the cold) and rushing for a train.
Granted, I do live at the stop closest to the tube station, but when temperatures are sub-zero, and penguins are in the queue for the bus, I think it’s justified that I join the queue too.
Now, while I may look like I’m having a whale of a time at this bus stop, rest assured, I am not. The little skip and hop dance you see me doing is actually my best effort to keep my toes stuck on to my feet, and that cloud you see around me is not a little cloud of joy. It’s actually the frozen version of my CO2.
From afar, it may look like I’m having a pleasant conversation with my fellow wait-mates. In reality, we’re comparing notes on whose bus-number-plate-to-complain-about-list is longer. It may look like we’re smiling, but that’s probably just another futile attempt at keeping warm.
Almost daily, someone loses their cool at the bus stop (Pun? Perhaps). Little sweet ladies are transformed into swearing, cold, lunatics when the 10th bus whizzes by without even a glance or nod of apology. I’ve even seen one lady run from the stop to the traffic light where the bus was held, just to bang on the door, swear, shout (probably trying to keep warm), only to run back to the stop after that. The traffic light is a quarter of the way to the tube station, so perhaps she should have had run all the way there, but, principals matter.
If, by chance, by about lunchtime when the rush hour traffic has subsided, you manage to get on a bus, you then have to deal with …
Trains
Trains are designed, by default, for shorter people. The way they swing from side to side, the shape of the train (and tunnel) that tapers downwards at the sides, the small seats, they’re all designed for people with a lower centre of gravity.
Which means I should fit perfectly on the train.
However, with about 92% of the population being taller than me, a comfortable fit on the train also involves standing face-to-face with someone’s:
a) armpit
b) elbow
c) backpack
My favourite is the last one, given the choices.
The trick is to pretend you’re on a surf board. Having never been on one myself, I don’t know how similar my style is to Keanu Reeve’s, but at a guess, pretty similar I would say.
Unfortunately, when you’re commuting during rush hour, you don’t have the luxury of swaying from any side to any side. The floor space upon which you were shoved gets smaller and smaller, until, at some point, you’re off the floor, suspended between 2 bigger, taller people. This has benefits, in that you won’t have to concentrate on keeping balance. Instead, you just read your Metro while levitating.
Turning pages when you have no elbow space is difficult, but give it some time and you’ll easily master the art of reading the same paragraph 20 times over, each time finding something new and interesting that you didn’t spot the previous time.
There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here.
There, until the next time I find somewhere nice to dine in, this’ll have to do.
A little rant here (lack of food, lack of mood).
Buses
Successfully catching a bus in London is like me saying no to free food (a rare occurrence). There are many reasons why this happens (bus, not food).
The first, probably most logical explanation for this is that the bus companies are short of buses. However, when empty buses zoom by the bus stop with a wave at you, it’s difficult to empathise with the bus shortage explanation. It’s even more difficult to empathise (with anything at all) when you’re freezing, slightly green (nauseous from the cold) and rushing for a train.
Granted, I do live at the stop closest to the tube station, but when temperatures are sub-zero, and penguins are in the queue for the bus, I think it’s justified that I join the queue too.
Now, while I may look like I’m having a whale of a time at this bus stop, rest assured, I am not. The little skip and hop dance you see me doing is actually my best effort to keep my toes stuck on to my feet, and that cloud you see around me is not a little cloud of joy. It’s actually the frozen version of my CO2.
From afar, it may look like I’m having a pleasant conversation with my fellow wait-mates. In reality, we’re comparing notes on whose bus-number-plate-to-complain-about-list is longer. It may look like we’re smiling, but that’s probably just another futile attempt at keeping warm.
Almost daily, someone loses their cool at the bus stop (Pun? Perhaps). Little sweet ladies are transformed into swearing, cold, lunatics when the 10th bus whizzes by without even a glance or nod of apology. I’ve even seen one lady run from the stop to the traffic light where the bus was held, just to bang on the door, swear, shout (probably trying to keep warm), only to run back to the stop after that. The traffic light is a quarter of the way to the tube station, so perhaps she should have had run all the way there, but, principals matter.
If, by chance, by about lunchtime when the rush hour traffic has subsided, you manage to get on a bus, you then have to deal with …
Trains
Trains are designed, by default, for shorter people. The way they swing from side to side, the shape of the train (and tunnel) that tapers downwards at the sides, the small seats, they’re all designed for people with a lower centre of gravity.
Which means I should fit perfectly on the train.
However, with about 92% of the population being taller than me, a comfortable fit on the train also involves standing face-to-face with someone’s:
a) armpit
b) elbow
c) backpack
My favourite is the last one, given the choices.
The trick is to pretend you’re on a surf board. Having never been on one myself, I don’t know how similar my style is to Keanu Reeve’s, but at a guess, pretty similar I would say.
Unfortunately, when you’re commuting during rush hour, you don’t have the luxury of swaying from any side to any side. The floor space upon which you were shoved gets smaller and smaller, until, at some point, you’re off the floor, suspended between 2 bigger, taller people. This has benefits, in that you won’t have to concentrate on keeping balance. Instead, you just read your Metro while levitating.
Turning pages when you have no elbow space is difficult, but give it some time and you’ll easily master the art of reading the same paragraph 20 times over, each time finding something new and interesting that you didn’t spot the previous time.
There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here. There is no space in here.
There, until the next time I find somewhere nice to dine in, this’ll have to do.
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