The 8.35 To London With The Unknown Girl
I shared breakfast with a beautiful woman this morning.
I don’t know her name – even now.
We never spoke.
When I say “shared” breakfast what I mean is I watched her eat. Shortly afterwards she put on her makeup, in between making a few calls on her mobile.
I’d only first caught site of her.
And this is why I could never return to being a commuter!
… I had to go into London (the reason is unimportant) and rather than sit on traffic, pump out exhaust and pay an unsavoury “congestion charge” I decided it made more sense to take the train.
After buying part of the car park and the train (the cost before 9.30 am is beyond a joke) I found my way to a less crowded part of the platform and boarded the train. There were a few seats free and I sat on a 2 facing 2 area.
She followed me on to the train and sat opposite.
She was looking a little dishelvelled.
Within a minute the area of the train where we were sitting had transformed itself into a kitchen!
First there was the banana. Not too bad. Then came the apple. Far to green and crunchy. How a good looking girl can think she is attractive making the row she did I just don’t know.
That was followed by the yogurt. At least a spoon was used but frankly the mess that was made she may have been better of using her fingers.
It was all washed down with a Starbucks coffee. You’d think they’d make those cardboard cups differently so they didn’t slurp every time they’re lifted to your lips.
By now I was seriously wishing I could move elsewhere but the train was now overloaded but at least it appearred breakfast was over.
What a delight then when out came the mobile dressing table. It wasn’t quite a full sixe mirrow but had the sun been shining there may well have been snipers taking pot shots at the train due to the flashes of light.
Out came the trowel and after an age mixing some creams the artist began her latest creation.
I really tried not to look but I was fascinated in not only how she could do what she was doing on a train that was bouncing along the tracks but also what was going through her mind.
There was no embarrassment – she was at times talking at the top of her voice to someone at the other end of the mobile phone giving them a running commentary on her make-over progress.
She clearly couldn’t care less about her fellow travellers – what they thought of her, the noise she made as she was eating, the fact the whole carriage could hear her conversation.
But after half an hour or so – she quitened down. Everything had been put away from whence it came. She was, in fact, looking stunning.
The train pulled in to London and the butterfly that had emerged from the dishevelled crysallis that got on the train less than hour ago went off to work to a place where nobody would believe the transformation I had witnessed.
Yes it was an eye-opener but I certainly wouldn’t want to go back to a daily commute, sharing a kitchen and bedroom like that everyday.
No, give me the relative boredom of a quick shuffle across the hallway to my home office any day – I just love the work from home Lifestyle!






