I was trying to think of some interesting observation or criticism to make on the tube home this morning, staring blankly at some of the drawings I’d already done…
I thought about talking about headphones… but I thought I’d keep that wildly interesting topic in the locker for now, I wouldn’t want to waste it now would I?
I thought about telling you how this man looks a bit like my dad did when he was younger… but you don’t know my dad (probably) so that was out…
Most tempting was to launch into a hate filled, bile spitting rant against this woman. Partly because of her ridiculous hat (when, exactly, did it become acceptable for a woman in her thirties to go out in public wearing what is basically one third of a pathetically bad bear costume without being sectioned for her own good?), but mostly because she sat and sang the 118247 advertising jingle over and over again to her friend, only pausing to say “It’s so catchy, it’s been stuck in my head for aaaaages!” which of course guaranteed that I would spend the next few hours screaming and cursing her every time I hummed it, which was about once every 6 seconds.
But I decided not to.
Then I saw this man.
He was with some friends, they were all very well dressed, too well dressed for 9am in my opinion.. with styled hair and matching socks and all the other signs of someone with too much energy in the morning to be trusted. It takes time to do these things, time I would rather spend in bed mumbling semi-conscious, semi-coherent complaints to my girlfriend about the snooze button or how cold It is.
But I kept looking at him because he has the word “Half” tattooed on the knuckles of his hand, and now I will spend all day thinking:
WHAT DOES HIS OTHER HAND SAY?