Tardis Head...

...Or notes from my 1 hr 23 minute commute home on the London Underground 

I tell you no word of a lie. The man sitting opposite me is reading a huge hardback called ‘The Atlantic Salmon – Genetics, Conservation and Management’ and he is riveted. The man is clean shaven, neat and dressed in a suit. I can’t decide if he’s a dandy fishmonger or an incredibly thorough food critic.

There are all sorts today. I am usually so grey feeling after work that I forget to look around but my salmon man has got me inspired. Next to him is a man I have nicknamed ‘beardylocks and the three hairs’, bald on top, he looks as if his hair has somehow gravitated down his face. I had a book when I was a child of drawings of faces which made sense either way up. He reminds me of those.

Well, now I’ve really started looking at people and they are fascinating. There is an art student in kooky purple glasses reading a manga comic. A wonderfully ancient and serene looking Chinese man in an Adidas shell suit. A sexually frustrated man whose leg keeps twitching and a man who cradles his back pack as if his child were inside it (I am going to go out on a limb and say that there was no child in the bag, although I can’t say for certain.) A senior looking man giving a bemused junior looking man a pep talk, “If we can’t get the FYU to PV with the XT  by tomorrow then we’ll never have enough TFS for the TP meeting!!”

I’m in love with them all now. The liquid lunchers, the 3 Greek men in hysterical laughter. The girl with the defiant face – a decision has been made! The untidy, weary woman with the dreamy smile – I wonder where she is? – A tantrum, a break–up, a bassoonist, a clergyman, 6 children, 7 languages, and a man in a pink turban being sniffed by a Pomeranian.

Wow. What a run-away-mind-train. Who are these people? I’d love to know.

Sometimes I have so many words in my head I can’t see how they could all fit inside my skull. Tardis head! I actually had a panic attack once at the thought of being trapped inside a calcium head box when my thoughts can be so huge.

But what if all of these people are full of words too? And their minds are running off in 18 different directions and they’re looking at the girl furiously writing on the back of a receipt and thinking, who are you? 


How can the carriage hold us?