On the day:
29/08/2012
On the way:
The woman's short bobbed dreadlocks hang heavy over a furrowed brow. It's been a long day. All she wants is a seat on the bus where she can put her shopping bag on her lap and take a load off her gold-sandalled feet.
Well it's her lucky night. There's a man up on his feet, eager to offer her his seat.
It's the bare-bellied fellow in the red Los Angeles cap, swigging from his plastic water bottle in the window seat behind the door.
He's making good on his offer, shuffling sideways towards the aisle, but she can't summon up much in the way of enthusiasm. No show of gratitude for his polite behaviour. Can it be his naked ebony torso? Certainly there is no sign of a shirt, none at all, not over a shoulder, not in a pocket, but she must have seen considerably worse during high summer on the buses.
"I'm not crazy I'm just hot," he protests as he steps out into the aisle. "I can't take it."
His jeans hang below the twin curves of his buttocks revealing a pair of grey underpants. At least, that's the rear view. She's got another perspective. Briefly. Before she slips into the safety of her seat - where she will later be sitting when she misses her stop.
About that lucky night...
On the pod:
Human Nature - Madonna
On the front page:
'The cream of warriors from a very select tribe' (The Times)
Thursday 30 August 2012
Wednesday 29 August 2012
The DUD strikes back
On the day:
28/08/2012
On the way:
There are machines at the corner of the road, a plume of smoke, a rattling sound of iron battering the surface. It can mean only one thing - the Department of Urban Disruption.
Men at work, three of them, always in threes (usually) a bit like Sith lords. Except that with Sith lords there are always two, and they tend towards a more menacing end of the sartorial spectrum than dayglo when it comes to getting dressed in the morning.
You don't see Vader swaggering through the blasted portal into the mayhem of the captured rebel blockade runner Tantive IV - the twisted bodies, the torn metal - and instructing his minions to bring him the princess alive, with his cybernetically reconstructed belly hanging out over bright orange overalls stripped to the waist and tied off by the arms. And that wheezing - less creepy with a white plastic helmet perched on top of his fleshy, bloated head.
Round the corner they stand, Darth Loiter, Darth Slouch and Darth In't Bovvered.
One has his hands in the pockets of his lumo-lime green overalls. Another is taking the weight off and transferring it to one of the posts that supports the cage that holds the hard-labouring droid bashing resolutely at the unresponsive road. And the third holds forth from his seat on some resident's garden wall: "Sa'ah fought I migh' as well go back to work."
Admirable as his evident dedication to his cause may be, it pales in comparison to that of, say, Maul in his energetic and acrobatic efforts to bag himself Jedi scalps.
Then again, with a work ethic like that, they're unlikely to blow up Alderaan.
On the pod:
Mediterranean - Duran Duran
On the front page:
NHS scorecards to keep doctors up to the mark (The Times)
On the subject: http://andhisthoughtsarefullofstrangers.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/agents-of-entropy.html
On the subject: http://andhisthoughtsarefullofstrangers.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/agents-of-entropy.html
Saturday 25 August 2012
It's a Minnie adventure
On the day:
24/08/2012
On the way:
Coo, readers, it's only Minnie the Minx. Gasp.
It's the red and black striped jersey. She must be sitting on her trademark tam o'shanter - but why is she wearing pink Mary-Janes?
It's got to be a trick. The security on this bus is compromised. I'm off.
On the pod:
Girl - The Beatles
On the front page:
Scandal of soldiers denied a pension
24/08/2012
On the way:
Coo, readers, it's only Minnie the Minx. Gasp.
It's the red and black striped jersey. She must be sitting on her trademark tam o'shanter - but why is she wearing pink Mary-Janes?
It's got to be a trick. The security on this bus is compromised. I'm off.
On the pod:
Girl - The Beatles
On the front page:
Scandal of soldiers denied a pension
Sward drawn
On the day:
23/08/2012
On the way:
It's been some time since a trio in orange overalls have brought their weapons of grass distraction to bear on the station sward. The grasses are long, the warty weeds are spikey as ever and rising rebelliously and the wee thistles are challenging fleshy human hands to have a go if they think they're hard enough.
But the woody stem that offered delicate white blooms are dried up and broken, which can only augur ill for this revulutionary cycle, however beneficial the wet summer has been for the Floral Army for Revolution and Conquest (FARC). Or so the humans think.
But the seeds have been sown, the infiltration has begun; for instance, that human hasn't noticed that the faux suede sections on his fancy-Dan walking shoes used to be black but now they have a telltale sort of greeny browny tint to them where floral agents have begun to take root. In a few seasons' time his feet will be tethered by high-tensile tendrils. And then we've got him where we want him.
And where would that be, exactly?
Why, unable to... um... unable to remove his shoes of course.
Which would further the cause how?
Well... Oh shut up. Someweed uproot that precocious sprig and let's get back to the campaign room.
On the pod:
Maybe An Angel - Heather Nova
On the front page:
Right to die campaigner finds a victory in death (The Times)
On the subject: http://andhisthoughtsarefullofstrangers.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/grassroots-insurgency.html
23/08/2012
On the way:
It's been some time since a trio in orange overalls have brought their weapons of grass distraction to bear on the station sward. The grasses are long, the warty weeds are spikey as ever and rising rebelliously and the wee thistles are challenging fleshy human hands to have a go if they think they're hard enough.
But the woody stem that offered delicate white blooms are dried up and broken, which can only augur ill for this revulutionary cycle, however beneficial the wet summer has been for the Floral Army for Revolution and Conquest (FARC). Or so the humans think.
But the seeds have been sown, the infiltration has begun; for instance, that human hasn't noticed that the faux suede sections on his fancy-Dan walking shoes used to be black but now they have a telltale sort of greeny browny tint to them where floral agents have begun to take root. In a few seasons' time his feet will be tethered by high-tensile tendrils. And then we've got him where we want him.
And where would that be, exactly?
Why, unable to... um... unable to remove his shoes of course.
Which would further the cause how?
Well... Oh shut up. Someweed uproot that precocious sprig and let's get back to the campaign room.
On the pod:
Maybe An Angel - Heather Nova
On the front page:
Right to die campaigner finds a victory in death (The Times)
On the subject: http://andhisthoughtsarefullofstrangers.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/grassroots-insurgency.html
Thursday 23 August 2012
Vested interest
On the day:
22/08/2012
On the day:
His head is a sphere topped with a silver-grey lawn mown short - the gentle slope of his nose extends, coming to a blunt end above an upper lip that overshadows a receding chin.
Winter white arms dangle from sloping shoulders, on view courtesy of his long white vest. Three skulls hear no, see no, speak no evil, long since inked into the skin of his right forearm, and a thick, black strap couches the watch on his left wrist.
He ambles up the aisle, there's no rush, flops lightly into his seat, takes a swig from his water bottle and settles himself for the few stops to the betting shop. Where he has previously put his shirt on a dead cert, and found it to be a dead loss, evidently.
Probably all his shirts.
On the pod:
All Over You - Live
On the front page:
Tax slump threatens to set off new wave of cuts (The Times)
22/08/2012
On the day:
His head is a sphere topped with a silver-grey lawn mown short - the gentle slope of his nose extends, coming to a blunt end above an upper lip that overshadows a receding chin.
Winter white arms dangle from sloping shoulders, on view courtesy of his long white vest. Three skulls hear no, see no, speak no evil, long since inked into the skin of his right forearm, and a thick, black strap couches the watch on his left wrist.
He ambles up the aisle, there's no rush, flops lightly into his seat, takes a swig from his water bottle and settles himself for the few stops to the betting shop. Where he has previously put his shirt on a dead cert, and found it to be a dead loss, evidently.
Probably all his shirts.
On the pod:
All Over You - Live
On the front page:
Tax slump threatens to set off new wave of cuts (The Times)
Tuesday 21 August 2012
Shake some sense
On the day:
21/08/2012
On the way:
He sits on the low wall, bent intent over his mobile phone - not so that he won't lift his head and even nod and smile when he notices someone passing by, though.
He's a pleasant looking young man in regulation blue jeans and hoodie, enjoying his breakfast in the morning sun, a McMilkshake.
A milkshake? At this time of the day?
He doesn't need to raise his eyes for that, he can just wrap his lips around the short, stubby McStraw and suck through the cold concoction of cream, milk and mystery McGrease that his body can pick, break down and use to coat his blood vessels and make fatty deposits.
What the...? Is that the voice of sense speaking into my middle age? Vade retro Satana!
Or is it the far more familiar tone of envy? Yep, that's more like it.
Now where can I get me summa dat?
On the pod:
Halala Afrika - Johannes Kerkorrel
On the front page:
Branson launches battle of the airlines (London Evening Standard)
21/08/2012
On the way:
He sits on the low wall, bent intent over his mobile phone - not so that he won't lift his head and even nod and smile when he notices someone passing by, though.
He's a pleasant looking young man in regulation blue jeans and hoodie, enjoying his breakfast in the morning sun, a McMilkshake.
A milkshake? At this time of the day?
He doesn't need to raise his eyes for that, he can just wrap his lips around the short, stubby McStraw and suck through the cold concoction of cream, milk and mystery McGrease that his body can pick, break down and use to coat his blood vessels and make fatty deposits.
What the...? Is that the voice of sense speaking into my middle age? Vade retro Satana!
Or is it the far more familiar tone of envy? Yep, that's more like it.
Now where can I get me summa dat?
On the pod:
Halala Afrika - Johannes Kerkorrel
On the front page:
Branson launches battle of the airlines (London Evening Standard)
Friday 17 August 2012
We remember
On the day:
17/08/2012
On the way:
Stop the clocks...
On the pod:
Take Me Home, Country Roads - John Denver
On the front page:
Diplomatic storm over bid to seize Assange
17/08/2012
On the way:
Stop the clocks...
On the pod:
Take Me Home, Country Roads - John Denver
On the front page:
Diplomatic storm over bid to seize Assange
Thursday 16 August 2012
Illuminating advice
On the day:
16/08/2012
On the way:
Just to clear up confusion, the illuminated figures on the doors of the public toilet cubicle on the corner have nothing to do with the illuminated figures on the traffic lights.
Pressing the button on the door of the public lavvy will have no impact on the passage of vehicles through the four-way stop, so it would be unwise to attempt crossing the road heedlessly on the grounds that VACANT is flashing green and the door is opening on the pungent chamber.
And similarly, you are almost certain to receive disapproving looks if you drop your trousers when the green man lights up.
So I am told.
On the pod:
Drive Me Home - The Evinrudes
On the front page:
Backlash fears at Facebook ad plan (Metro)
16/08/2012
On the way:
Just to clear up confusion, the illuminated figures on the doors of the public toilet cubicle on the corner have nothing to do with the illuminated figures on the traffic lights.
Pressing the button on the door of the public lavvy will have no impact on the passage of vehicles through the four-way stop, so it would be unwise to attempt crossing the road heedlessly on the grounds that VACANT is flashing green and the door is opening on the pungent chamber.
And similarly, you are almost certain to receive disapproving looks if you drop your trousers when the green man lights up.
So I am told.
On the pod:
Drive Me Home - The Evinrudes
On the front page:
Backlash fears at Facebook ad plan (Metro)
Cast and crown
On the day:
15/08/2012
On the way:
She's a pretty little girl, wide-set blue eyes, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail off her high forehead. Her T-shirt is white with a glittering polo player logo formed from shimmering studs, her leggings dove grey.
All the energy of a, what, ten-year-old, her chatter is fast and furious, Speedy Gonzales on triple espressos, and she is up and down from the seat opposite her mother to the seat next to her and back again.
They're off to the hospital, perhaps to get the grubby pink cast on the girl's right forearm removed. But what about the shape of a crown inked behind and below her right earlobe?
Surely that will come off with soap and water.
On the pod:
You Held The World In Your Arms - Idlewild
On the front page:
The blame for trains falls mainly on the trains (Metro)
15/08/2012
On the way:
She's a pretty little girl, wide-set blue eyes, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail off her high forehead. Her T-shirt is white with a glittering polo player logo formed from shimmering studs, her leggings dove grey.
All the energy of a, what, ten-year-old, her chatter is fast and furious, Speedy Gonzales on triple espressos, and she is up and down from the seat opposite her mother to the seat next to her and back again.
They're off to the hospital, perhaps to get the grubby pink cast on the girl's right forearm removed. But what about the shape of a crown inked behind and below her right earlobe?
Surely that will come off with soap and water.
On the pod:
You Held The World In Your Arms - Idlewild
On the front page:
The blame for trains falls mainly on the trains (Metro)
Tuesday 14 August 2012
Paper view
On the day:
14/08/2012
On the way:
There's the chap in the suit and tie, eyes absent, body present and arranged neatly, briefcase in his lap and his newspaper folded on top of it.
Then there's the curly-haired bloke, slouched across his seat, one leg spilling over into the aisle, a long chain hanging from his loose jeans, scanning The Sun.
Between them sits a slight boy, alert, upright, ten years old maybe, youthful vigour channelled through his spectacles on his copy of the Metro.
On the pod:
Like Lovers Do - Heather Nova
On the front page:
The most watched event in TV history (Metro)
14/08/2012
On the way:
There's the chap in the suit and tie, eyes absent, body present and arranged neatly, briefcase in his lap and his newspaper folded on top of it.
Then there's the curly-haired bloke, slouched across his seat, one leg spilling over into the aisle, a long chain hanging from his loose jeans, scanning The Sun.
Between them sits a slight boy, alert, upright, ten years old maybe, youthful vigour channelled through his spectacles on his copy of the Metro.
On the pod:
Like Lovers Do - Heather Nova
On the front page:
The most watched event in TV history (Metro)
Post-Olympic gloom
On the day:
13/08/2012
On the way:
It's all over. The crowds have gone, and they've taken the buzz with them. Agoraphobia stalks the Tube trains and lounges across spare seats on buses. There's even space for the mayor to leave the lady alone in her box and return to his regular office.
The sky's gone grey and it's spitting in a half-hearted way. Even the clouds couldn't be bothered.
But the five rings of ultimate happiness still adorn Tower Bridge, Belgian tourists are still posing with Skyline Wenlock, and then there's the Eastern European tourist talking to his two companions: "Hey, hiev you ridden a Bworis bike yet?"
Wossname was right, Samuel Johnson. "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Init."
On the pod:
Hello - Oasis
On the front page:
Athletes say thank you and farewell London (London Evening Standard)
13/08/2012
On the way:
It's all over. The crowds have gone, and they've taken the buzz with them. Agoraphobia stalks the Tube trains and lounges across spare seats on buses. There's even space for the mayor to leave the lady alone in her box and return to his regular office.
The sky's gone grey and it's spitting in a half-hearted way. Even the clouds couldn't be bothered.
But the five rings of ultimate happiness still adorn Tower Bridge, Belgian tourists are still posing with Skyline Wenlock, and then there's the Eastern European tourist talking to his two companions: "Hey, hiev you ridden a Bworis bike yet?"
Wossname was right, Samuel Johnson. "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Init."
On the pod:
Hello - Oasis
On the front page:
Athletes say thank you and farewell London (London Evening Standard)
Saturday 11 August 2012
In the green
On the day:
10/08/2012
On the way:
He's strolling over the bridge, cool, calm and collected. Just your average, everyday trainee website manager, economic history student or physics prodigy. But look at the T-shirt under his lightweight blue and white checked shirt.
It's green. And you can see the lines of the six pack and pecs. And the ripped up waistline of purple trousers (forget the Gamma-spawned transformation, achieving that ripped waistline effect every time, that's the second greatest suspension of disbelief involved here - the greatest being that they actually stay up).
Cool shirt, though. I'd ask him where he got it, but he might not like that. He might get angry.
And you know what that means...
On the pod:
Without You - Asia
On the front page:
Dancing to victory (The Times)
10/08/2012
On the way:
He's strolling over the bridge, cool, calm and collected. Just your average, everyday trainee website manager, economic history student or physics prodigy. But look at the T-shirt under his lightweight blue and white checked shirt.
It's green. And you can see the lines of the six pack and pecs. And the ripped up waistline of purple trousers (forget the Gamma-spawned transformation, achieving that ripped waistline effect every time, that's the second greatest suspension of disbelief involved here - the greatest being that they actually stay up).
Cool shirt, though. I'd ask him where he got it, but he might not like that. He might get angry.
And you know what that means...
On the pod:
Without You - Asia
On the front page:
Dancing to victory (The Times)
Thursday 9 August 2012
Blue chip
On the day:
09/08/2012
On the way:
The seat molds are a plastic shade of blue you only ever see in children's playgrounds and water fun parks.
The hard-wearing fuzzy fabric that mitigates the impact of the unforgiving synthetic on bottoms of all shapes and sizes is more complex in its colouring. Two shades of blue in a pattern that's not easy to follow, and overlaid with circular motifs made up of a corpulent orange crescent, a smudge of red taking up two thirds of the remaining space in the circle, and the prevailing blue showing through the rest.
And on the cushioning, to the back and to the left, lies a chip. One chip. One cold, stale, potato chip, separated from the herd, vulnerable to the predators that prowl this blue wasteland.
Did I mention that the floor is blue - a greyer blue with red and orange stipples to pick out the pattern on the seats meticulously designed by a fan of Jackson Pollock, but almost certainly not by the great man himself? No?
Well why would I? No one would actually look that closely at the colour scheme on a bus unless a) they were concerned for the safety of an abandoned potato chip (hungry, anyone?) or b) they were listening to Coldplay.
Init.
On the pod:
Fix You (live) - Coldplay
On the front page:
Britain 'must build on success of Olympics' (The Times)
On the subject: For a more uplifting musings on the colour of Leonardo (the turtle, not the Renaissance polymath) visit Under the Milkwood http://underthemilkwoodtree.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/50-something-shades-of-blue.html
09/08/2012
On the way:
The seat molds are a plastic shade of blue you only ever see in children's playgrounds and water fun parks.
The hard-wearing fuzzy fabric that mitigates the impact of the unforgiving synthetic on bottoms of all shapes and sizes is more complex in its colouring. Two shades of blue in a pattern that's not easy to follow, and overlaid with circular motifs made up of a corpulent orange crescent, a smudge of red taking up two thirds of the remaining space in the circle, and the prevailing blue showing through the rest.
And on the cushioning, to the back and to the left, lies a chip. One chip. One cold, stale, potato chip, separated from the herd, vulnerable to the predators that prowl this blue wasteland.
Did I mention that the floor is blue - a greyer blue with red and orange stipples to pick out the pattern on the seats meticulously designed by a fan of Jackson Pollock, but almost certainly not by the great man himself? No?
Well why would I? No one would actually look that closely at the colour scheme on a bus unless a) they were concerned for the safety of an abandoned potato chip (hungry, anyone?) or b) they were listening to Coldplay.
Init.
On the pod:
Fix You (live) - Coldplay
On the front page:
Britain 'must build on success of Olympics' (The Times)
On the subject: For a more uplifting musings on the colour of Leonardo (the turtle, not the Renaissance polymath) visit Under the Milkwood http://underthemilkwoodtree.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/50-something-shades-of-blue.html
Wednesday 8 August 2012
Colour blind
On the day:
08/08/2012
On the way:
She stands looking out over the water, all swishing blonde ponytail and blue jeans, preparing for the onward journey. She pulls on her black zip-up trackie top, with thick grey letters insisting: PINK PINK PINK. I'm missing something here, aren't I?
On the pod:
Hung The Moon - Better Than Ezra
On the front page:
Ride of the Olympians (The Times)
08/08/2012
On the way:
She stands looking out over the water, all swishing blonde ponytail and blue jeans, preparing for the onward journey. She pulls on her black zip-up trackie top, with thick grey letters insisting: PINK PINK PINK. I'm missing something here, aren't I?
On the pod:
Hung The Moon - Better Than Ezra
On the front page:
Ride of the Olympians (The Times)
Look sharp
On the day:
07/08/2012
On the way:
The bottle is tiny, one of those sample-sized ones you can expect on a plane, and it is barely visible as it shelters in the palm of his man-sized hand. It's just tall enough to show the dark brown liquor coursing through the top of its neck as he lifts it to his lips.
He's a young man, his back against a pole at the door of the bus - mid-twenties maybe, blue jeans, grey and blue sweatshirt, white trainers. His hair is dark, neatly cut, the bottom of his jaw and chin showing just enough shadow to be whatever just enough shadow signifies, his nose strong, with a slight hook, softens before it can come to a point.
He turns his head with all the sharpness of a man sucking on the hard stuff on a bus at 10 to 9 on a Tuesday morning, rouged eyes an inch out of focus, and fixes me with a salesman's smile blurred at the edges. He nods towards the white plastic shopping bag clutched in his left hand. "Ywanna buya razor?"
No thank you.
"Cmaan, you needa buya razor."
No thank you.
He shakes his head, disappointed. Clearly I don't understand.
"You needa shave man."
On the pod:
Hand To Hold On To - John Cougar
On the front page:
Agony and ecstasy on road to Olympic history (The Times)
07/08/2012
On the way:
The bottle is tiny, one of those sample-sized ones you can expect on a plane, and it is barely visible as it shelters in the palm of his man-sized hand. It's just tall enough to show the dark brown liquor coursing through the top of its neck as he lifts it to his lips.
He's a young man, his back against a pole at the door of the bus - mid-twenties maybe, blue jeans, grey and blue sweatshirt, white trainers. His hair is dark, neatly cut, the bottom of his jaw and chin showing just enough shadow to be whatever just enough shadow signifies, his nose strong, with a slight hook, softens before it can come to a point.
He turns his head with all the sharpness of a man sucking on the hard stuff on a bus at 10 to 9 on a Tuesday morning, rouged eyes an inch out of focus, and fixes me with a salesman's smile blurred at the edges. He nods towards the white plastic shopping bag clutched in his left hand. "Ywanna buya razor?"
No thank you.
"Cmaan, you needa buya razor."
No thank you.
He shakes his head, disappointed. Clearly I don't understand.
"You needa shave man."
On the pod:
Hand To Hold On To - John Cougar
On the front page:
Agony and ecstasy on road to Olympic history (The Times)
Monday 6 August 2012
Back-in-the-box
On the day:
03/08/2012
On the way:
Nope, he's back again. Boris is back in the box to tell us there are lots of things going on in London at the moment (the devil, you say?).
Oh, and we should plan our journeys. Thanks for the tip, pal.
Hasn't he got anything better to do?
On the pod:
Gotta Get Away - The Offspring
On the front page:
Hoy completes golden day for UK sport (The Times)
03/08/2012
On the way:
Nope, he's back again. Boris is back in the box to tell us there are lots of things going on in London at the moment (the devil, you say?).
Oh, and we should plan our journeys. Thanks for the tip, pal.
Hasn't he got anything better to do?
On the pod:
Gotta Get Away - The Offspring
On the front page:
Hoy completes golden day for UK sport (The Times)
Thursday 2 August 2012
Bo on a wire
On the day:
02/08/2012
On the way:
He's been booted out of the box on the bus, Boris Johnson. His mission to ensure his electorate and his Olympic visitors are fully informed, scuppered.
The woman in the box stretches and breathes a sigh of relief.
Still, he gets around, doesn't he? Someone must have got him down from the Victoria Park zipwire, where he was held up halfway down earlier in the week. Presumably, flushed by the success of his 'Boris bike' cycling initiative, he was trying out a new form of public transport, perhaps for crossing the river.
The Shard to City line, anyone? There's got to be a better reason for stabbing London in the aesthetic eye with that stack of plexiglass spikes other than that its really really tall.
Plus, imagine the kerfuffle if the mayor got stuck on a wire 150 metres above the Thames.
On the pod:
Bridal Train - The Waifs
On the front page:
Team GB strike gold with historic double (The Times)
02/08/2012
On the way:
He's been booted out of the box on the bus, Boris Johnson. His mission to ensure his electorate and his Olympic visitors are fully informed, scuppered.
The woman in the box stretches and breathes a sigh of relief.
Still, he gets around, doesn't he? Someone must have got him down from the Victoria Park zipwire, where he was held up halfway down earlier in the week. Presumably, flushed by the success of his 'Boris bike' cycling initiative, he was trying out a new form of public transport, perhaps for crossing the river.
The Shard to City line, anyone? There's got to be a better reason for stabbing London in the aesthetic eye with that stack of plexiglass spikes other than that its really really tall.
Plus, imagine the kerfuffle if the mayor got stuck on a wire 150 metres above the Thames.
On the pod:
Bridal Train - The Waifs
On the front page:
Team GB strike gold with historic double (The Times)
Wednesday 1 August 2012
You've crossed the line
On the day:
01/08/2012
On the way:
The man in the sober, dark grey suit is far away, transported in his chunky, white headphones, but still he must be maintaining some physical presence as half of his shiny black-shod foot is evidently over the yellow line when the jumped-up functionary in a luminous plastic vest, his temporary robe of Olympic office, approaches.
He leans into view to bring the businessman back from his daydream destination to the sooty-smelling platform. Then he points to the yellow line and the offending foot and explains the rules of the platform slowly and with exaggerated movements of his mouth, so as to communicate through the barrier of the headphones.
And, having overseen the movement of the offending foot by three inches away from the edge, he turns and bustles off, a job well done.
He's earned that sense of smug satifaction and tonight will sleep the sleep of the just.
On the pod:
Burning Down The House - Talking Heads
On the front page:
The greatest Olympian (The Times)
01/08/2012
On the way:
The man in the sober, dark grey suit is far away, transported in his chunky, white headphones, but still he must be maintaining some physical presence as half of his shiny black-shod foot is evidently over the yellow line when the jumped-up functionary in a luminous plastic vest, his temporary robe of Olympic office, approaches.
He leans into view to bring the businessman back from his daydream destination to the sooty-smelling platform. Then he points to the yellow line and the offending foot and explains the rules of the platform slowly and with exaggerated movements of his mouth, so as to communicate through the barrier of the headphones.
And, having overseen the movement of the offending foot by three inches away from the edge, he turns and bustles off, a job well done.
He's earned that sense of smug satifaction and tonight will sleep the sleep of the just.
On the pod:
Burning Down The House - Talking Heads
On the front page:
The greatest Olympian (The Times)
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