runner | Head In A Blender

Recently my wife started working at the same company as me. Her role in the company requires us to get into work a little closer to 8.30am than 9am.

Dammit.

In order to achieve this we’ve discovered we can catch the same train I’ve always caught and then get off at the following station to connect with a much faster train into London.

Make sense?

So why haven’t I always done this?

Well, there is a method in my madness. The train I always catch is virtually empty with tons of cosy seats for much needed snoozing, whereas the faster (and therefore more popular) train is standing room only; packed full of happy and joyful commuters all too happy that I’m taking up that last square inch of space on the train.

It’s all very intimate. Lots of touching.

So, in true form, we boarded the slow and empty train and took a seat. It was a little taster of what we could’ve had if we’d stayed on board, but soon enough the next station was upon us and we reluctantly got off.

It was a cold and rainy morning, so that always makes it easier.

The train sat in the station for a few minutes and I took this time to smile at the amount of people running to get on before it left. There were a lot of them this morning for some reason.

Maybe they knew something we didnt.

Maybe they should’ve risen out of bed earlier this morning.

Maybe I hadn’t noticed in the past because by this time I was usually sat on my virtually empty train; head back, mouth open.

My favourite of these platform runners was the business man who sprinted at the doors just as they began to close, managing to wedge his hand between them in a futile attempt to prise them open like some kind of action hero.

The doors didn’t open.

He removed his hand.

I smiled and turned to my wife, “That’s happened to me so many times”, before turning back and continuing with, “Ha ha, gutted mate”.

The guard blew his whistle and the train slowly started to pull away. The business man looked thoroughly pissed off, as did the others who didnt even manage to get close enough for some ‘hand in door’ action. But, to be honest, they needn’t be; the next train was also heading to London Victoria station and would actually get them in 15 minutes earlier.

Granted it’ll be standing room only, but its all very friendly.

Why the rush for this particular train? Calm down people. The faster train is just behind it. Relax.

We looked up at the information board which was still displaying the virtually empty, and still slowly departing, train and waited to see if the fast train behind it was on time.

‘Cancelled’

What?? No!!!

We shouldn’t have got off!

The slower train would’ve got us to the office on time, but now we were going to be late.

The runners knew. They KNEW!

Shit.

And as we watched the virtually empty ‘slow’ train full of warm and comfy seats (that we’d just been sitting on) leave the station I swear I caught the business man smiling at me.

Ha ha, gutted mate.

I saw something this evening that was both amusing and adorable.

Let me start with a question…

If you saw an article of clothing fall out of a stranger’s rucksack as they walked by and they hadn’t noticed, would you pick it up and run after them?

I think most people would.

I would.

Well that’s exactly what I saw happen this evening as I was walking to the tube station. Only, on this occasion the stranger was a London jogger.

For the uninitiated, a London jogger tends to be quicker than a regular jogger. This evolution of speed has adapted itself over the years so the LJ can nimbly negotiate the cruel and unrelenting London traffic (and the types of dawdling twats you only get on the pavements of this fine city) like Lycra clad urban ninjas.

So anyway, this jogger ran by and something fell out of her rucksack onto the floor. The LJ hadn’t noticed and continued running.

A woman bent down, picked up the scarf type item and called out to the LJ, but she couldn’t hear through the music she was listening to on her headphones.

“This will be interesting”, I thought.

I slowed down, naturally.

The woman then decided to run after the LJ waving this article of clothing as if somehow the flapping of material would create enough breeze to alert the runner.

It didn’t.

I looked away briefly to cross the road as I didn’t want to get hit by a car (I’m no urban ninja) and when I looked back she was still running after the LJ, a further 50 metres up the street! You’ve got to respect her resilience!

She finally caught up with the runner, handed her the scarf (or whatever it was) and then proceeded to bend over and pant like a knackered dog. The LJ was rubbing her back and saying what looked like “are you ok?”

It’s moments like these that lift my spirits; not only because it’s funny, but because it renews my faith in people.

That is until I encounter the inevitable pricks on the tube.