On the day:
13/06/2012
On the way:
He marches stiff-legged from the back of the carriage, rumpled navy trousers that haven't felt the iron's warm caress. Nor, probably, has the white shirt under his tatty tweed jacket guarded by one lonely button.
One hand grips a pole for balance, the other hangs on to a white plastic bag proudly bearing a regimental museum logo, newspapers threatening to go AWOL from their overcrowded barracks.
His face is a raw shade of pink, like wiener sausages fresh from the boiling water, but his freckles still struggle through the skintone to be seen. His hair is an unruly thatch of greys and his mouth is twisted in an unchanging grimace - not threatening, it's all it can do.
And below the bulbous forehead, his small blue eyes are rolled upward, struggling to carry out a comprehensive recce of their surroundings.
There's dignity in his straight back, a broken military bearing. But no gentle hand to iron his trousers.
On the pod:
Union City Blue - Blondie
On the front page:
Olympics opening "is cruel to animals" (Metro)
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