You'll never guess what...
Yesterday the most exciting thing happened to me.
I was late for work. This is not the exciting thing, as I am always late for work.
I was at Kennington tube station. Waiting for a tube. Annoyed because I had got on a bus from Clapham North to Stockwell, got on the Northern Line to Kennington and then had to get off because the train had been diverted. For those who are non-Londoners I must tell you that both Clapham North (nearest tube to my flat) and Old Street (nearest tube to my work) are on the Northern Line, and that it is only due to there being a twenty-million-thousand-and-ten people taking that route that I have to get the bus to Stockwell and change there. With no people it takes about twenty minutes. In the mornings it takes about forty. This is annoying when one is habitually late for work.
Anyway. I was at Kennington, right, and a train came along.
(Here is the exciting bit)
There was no one on the train.
Hang on, that didn't come out right, let me try again.
There was no one on the train!
Think! The empty seats! Usually it is so squashed that one must stand with one's face pressed into someone else's shoulder, trying to read another person's Metro which they have bravely attempted to open about two inches from their face and of which they consequently cannot read a word. It is not fun so much.
Yesterday, however? Oh, it was different. The other people on the platform and I stepped onto the train, looking around in wonder like a race of people discovering a new world in which Charmed is on TV all day and Pret Super Club Sandwiches hang tantalisingly from the trees. Settling down in our seats we discovered we could peruse our OWN reading matter, that breathing was an option, and that life was, for that small moment in time, truly blessed.
Has that small and somewhat pointless story distracted you from wanting to know about the person I was being all mysterious about in my last post? No?
Well, I am cooking for him tonight. This is something I don't usually bother with/attempt, and is brave on both of our parts. He is nice. He is more than nice but I am not going to say anything else for two reasons. Firstly the aforementioned people that READ this thing and who may mock me and call me names, and perhaps steal my dinner money. Secondly I feel the universe will strike me down for being tentatively happy or excited. This is what I ALWAYS say, I know, and is stupid, I acknowledge. Then you ALWAYS say that I do deserve it and I should enjoy it and then I feel silly because I feel like a drama queen when in fact I am more of a drama princess because I am younger. I have changed though, slightly. Regard: I think perhaps I deserve to be happy and excited because yesterday I helped an old lady onto the bus.
(I actually didn't help any ladies, old or otherwise, onto any buses, but had there been a lady, gentleman, or even certain breed of dog that looked like they were struggling I would have lent a hand, and I think intention counts.)
(I... am peculiar.)
Bec wants me to remain single so that I can go out and drink cocktails and taunt men with her but I disagree. I maintain that I am perfectly capable of 'going out and having fun' even if I do happen to be sort-of-but-not-really-yet-but-I-wouldn't-pull-anyone-else attached.
Also: My birthday! Is Monday, but I am going for drinks in Camden on Saturday. I am not expecting many presents or songs or poems dedicated to how wonderful this world is for me having been born (or some other, more grammatically correct, subject matter). Not really.
If you want to buy me a pony you may, but only if you train it first. To fetch, and pour wine and stuff. It must also be able to pretend to be a unicorn so it can play Charmed with me.
I am looking forward to this pony.
I have to go now and spend a little time worrying about the fact that I cannot cook and also that I may be more than slightly, well, odd.