Stairwell swarm

On the day: 
28/06/2012 


On the way: 
There's a cacophony of voices clattering down the stairwell to the platform. Yakkata yakkata yakkata. Yakkata yakkata yakkata. 
Like a plague of locusts visited upon the unsuspecting station batting wings and crashing into the wooden planks that panel the walls. Yakkata, yakkata, yakkata.
It really isn't that kind of station. Commuters come here in ones and twos. It's not convenient for school parties. Yakkata yakkata yakkata. The tourist trade orbits closer to the crowds. Yakkata yakkata yakkata. And clan outings to London involving several families usually leave later for the holiday matinees. Yakkata, yakkata, yakkata 
The blood runs cold. The precious peace has been shattered, gone the tranquil trip to work, there'll be no 20-minute nap this morning, lulled by the regular rock and roll of wheels on the track. I've just got to get on the train before the swarm settles on every seat.Yakkata yakka...
The noise stops and one woman peers out onto the platform, turns, nods silently and emerges, dragging one suitcase on wheels, followed by one more woman, dragging one more suitcase on wheels. 
Let's put it down to the echo in the stairwell, shall we. Maybe the wheels on the steps.
Or maybe it really is true that 20 minutes on the train are not enough to make up small hours spent surfing music video channels. 


On the pod: 
The Big Store - The Devils 


On the front page: 
Becks's Olympic dream is over (London Evening Standard)