On the day:
15/03/2013
On the way:
It's not often a fella goes into a no-elbow-room public lavvy to find a chap wearing a gold lame suit with a delicately patterned stripe down the leg, blue etched on white, accessorised with matching wrought gold patent brogues, plate-glass Seventies-issue specs and a brown fluffy hat with teddy bear ears.
But that doesn't mean it never happens . . .
On the pod:
Love Comes Quickly - Pet Shop Boys
On the front page:
London's 10 million reasons to smile (London Evening Standard)
Saturday 16 March 2013
Avengers dissemble
On the day:
15/03/2013
On the way:
At the other end of the bus, a figure is buried in a green pile of puffa jacket.
The shape of that figure are indiscernable, but what is clear is that there is a baseball cap on top of it, and on that cap are the words 'Avengers Assemble' picked out in red outline on a black background. I
t's no so much that the letters are clear, more the shape they form - linguists say it's a fairly standard means of recognising words, and in this particular field of logo-ography I am something of an expert, if I say so myself.
I make my way to my familiar perch at the back of the bus, ready to congratulate the mound of man on his fine choice in caps . . . The letters become clearer, yessiree, there they are: Mountain Challenge.
Well, that would have been my second guess.
On the pod:
What's The Story Morning Glory - Oasis
On the front page:
Catholic priest: I can't be a sex attacker, I've been married 13 years (Metro)
15/03/2013
On the way:
At the other end of the bus, a figure is buried in a green pile of puffa jacket.
The shape of that figure are indiscernable, but what is clear is that there is a baseball cap on top of it, and on that cap are the words 'Avengers Assemble' picked out in red outline on a black background. I
t's no so much that the letters are clear, more the shape they form - linguists say it's a fairly standard means of recognising words, and in this particular field of logo-ography I am something of an expert, if I say so myself.
I make my way to my familiar perch at the back of the bus, ready to congratulate the mound of man on his fine choice in caps . . . The letters become clearer, yessiree, there they are: Mountain Challenge.
Well, that would have been my second guess.
On the pod:
What's The Story Morning Glory - Oasis
On the front page:
Catholic priest: I can't be a sex attacker, I've been married 13 years (Metro)
Delivery at a diagonal
On the day:
13/03/2013
On the way:
The bus hasn't yet arrived but that doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the delivery truck. Yet.
For it exists at a diagonal inhabiting both the to and the fro, the ebb and the flow, the coming and the going. And vehicles are starting to collect on either side.
"Good with food," assert the letters its flank presents to the bus stop.
And on the other side: "Rubbish with traffic."
Presumably.
On the pod:
Of Crime And Passion - Duran Duran
On the front page:
Top stars to be arrested by Saville officers (London Evening Standard)
13/03/2013
On the way:
The bus hasn't yet arrived but that doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the delivery truck. Yet.
For it exists at a diagonal inhabiting both the to and the fro, the ebb and the flow, the coming and the going. And vehicles are starting to collect on either side.
"Good with food," assert the letters its flank presents to the bus stop.
And on the other side: "Rubbish with traffic."
Presumably.
On the pod:
Of Crime And Passion - Duran Duran
On the front page:
Top stars to be arrested by Saville officers (London Evening Standard)
Tuesday 12 March 2013
Distinct delight
On the day:
11/03/2013
On the way:
The night is icy and the breeze coming off the water prickles bare cheeks with its cold caress.
He's a big man - built strong and tall - but even he bends his beanied head to blow warm breath into the collar of his navy track top with red and white trim. His jeans are dark but his trainers are azure blue.
And as you walk by him, you can detect a distinct smell of Turkish delight.
On the pod:
Euphoria - Glasvegas
On the front page:
Hostage was killed 'over rescue fears' (Metro)
11/03/2013
On the way:
The night is icy and the breeze coming off the water prickles bare cheeks with its cold caress.
He's a big man - built strong and tall - but even he bends his beanied head to blow warm breath into the collar of his navy track top with red and white trim. His jeans are dark but his trainers are azure blue.
And as you walk by him, you can detect a distinct smell of Turkish delight.
On the pod:
Euphoria - Glasvegas
On the front page:
Hostage was killed 'over rescue fears' (Metro)
Oriental bizarre
On the day:
10/03/2013
On the way:
The lady has something of the Disney fox about her, and its not the pillarbox red felt coat. Maybe the turn of the nose, maybe the sparkle in the eye, as she informs her phone: "Through a bizarre mischance, I have a spare Indian takeaway to bring with me for dinner tomorrow."
Bizarre mischance, eh? I'm sure it wasn't as bizarre as, turming left onto your street on your moped, you had a freak fatal coming together with an alsatian-sized civet cat, streaking out of the front gate, carrying a canvas bag slung over its back, and before you could shake the shock to your own system and begin to grieve the passing of the beautiful creature, the figure in front of your very eyes appeared to shimmer and shift and changed its form to that of an expensively dressed, rosy-cheeked blond man in a green suit and a leopard-print tie.
And at that moment a small family of Asian extraction emerged from the house in a state of some excitement and the mother embraced you and kissed you on both cheeks and the father placed a garland of lotus blossom around your neck and the grandmother wiped tears from her eyes and the two little girls smiled shyly.
And the father explained that they had been trying to make improvements to their house to sell it at a good price but a cruel property developer, who wanted to buy it cheaply and turn it into a front for an illegal underground Balinese sauna, had stolen their baby son and was extracting cash from them on the promise that if they continued to do so the child would remain safe. So he would come round each Saturday to pick up the money and demand a slap-up meal of Balti chicken at the same time, and giving them time to prepare it, would go off to bank the cash (in unmarked notes, which he would put into a canvas bag) having shifted his shape so no one would recognise him as the head of the PTA at the local Catholic comprehensive, then return for his meal. So that was why they couldn't get the money together to do the necessary renovations to sell.
But now there he lay before their very eyes, and thank you. And the father picked up the canvas bag and removed several burnished copper ingots and handed them to the children and the grandmother hobbled off to retrieve her grandson from the estate agent on the high street and the mother said they had not much bit how could they repay you? How about giving you the takeaway Balti chicken they had ordered for their tormentor.
Yes, takeaway. Just because they were a family of Asian extraction didn't mean they necessarily cooked Balti chicken.
I bet your bizarre mischance wasn't that bizarre.
"Don't be ridiculous," says Natasha, for it is she. "You know I don't have a moped."
On the pod:
The Fog - Biffy Clyro
On the front page:
Exclusive: Gazza on booze hell - 'I was dead' (The Sun, Sunday)
10/03/2013
On the way:
The lady has something of the Disney fox about her, and its not the pillarbox red felt coat. Maybe the turn of the nose, maybe the sparkle in the eye, as she informs her phone: "Through a bizarre mischance, I have a spare Indian takeaway to bring with me for dinner tomorrow."
Bizarre mischance, eh? I'm sure it wasn't as bizarre as, turming left onto your street on your moped, you had a freak fatal coming together with an alsatian-sized civet cat, streaking out of the front gate, carrying a canvas bag slung over its back, and before you could shake the shock to your own system and begin to grieve the passing of the beautiful creature, the figure in front of your very eyes appeared to shimmer and shift and changed its form to that of an expensively dressed, rosy-cheeked blond man in a green suit and a leopard-print tie.
And at that moment a small family of Asian extraction emerged from the house in a state of some excitement and the mother embraced you and kissed you on both cheeks and the father placed a garland of lotus blossom around your neck and the grandmother wiped tears from her eyes and the two little girls smiled shyly.
And the father explained that they had been trying to make improvements to their house to sell it at a good price but a cruel property developer, who wanted to buy it cheaply and turn it into a front for an illegal underground Balinese sauna, had stolen their baby son and was extracting cash from them on the promise that if they continued to do so the child would remain safe. So he would come round each Saturday to pick up the money and demand a slap-up meal of Balti chicken at the same time, and giving them time to prepare it, would go off to bank the cash (in unmarked notes, which he would put into a canvas bag) having shifted his shape so no one would recognise him as the head of the PTA at the local Catholic comprehensive, then return for his meal. So that was why they couldn't get the money together to do the necessary renovations to sell.
But now there he lay before their very eyes, and thank you. And the father picked up the canvas bag and removed several burnished copper ingots and handed them to the children and the grandmother hobbled off to retrieve her grandson from the estate agent on the high street and the mother said they had not much bit how could they repay you? How about giving you the takeaway Balti chicken they had ordered for their tormentor.
Yes, takeaway. Just because they were a family of Asian extraction didn't mean they necessarily cooked Balti chicken.
I bet your bizarre mischance wasn't that bizarre.
"Don't be ridiculous," says Natasha, for it is she. "You know I don't have a moped."
On the pod:
The Fog - Biffy Clyro
On the front page:
Exclusive: Gazza on booze hell - 'I was dead' (The Sun, Sunday)
Short and sweet
On the day:
09/03/2013
On the way:
She gazes longingly at the boxes in their rich purples, creams and browns.
"Mm, should mummy treat herself to some chocolates?" she muses.
"No," is the answer from the boy at her side.
Well, you did ask.
On the pod:
City - Ed Sheeran
On the front page:
Tory voters fear next election is already lost (The Times)
09/03/2013
On the way:
She gazes longingly at the boxes in their rich purples, creams and browns.
"Mm, should mummy treat herself to some chocolates?" she muses.
"No," is the answer from the boy at her side.
Well, you did ask.
On the pod:
City - Ed Sheeran
On the front page:
Tory voters fear next election is already lost (The Times)
Saturday 9 March 2013
Marvel in the mist
On the day:
08/03/2013
On the way:
The mist is so thick the towers on the bridge disappear into the clouds as you walk below them.
Ahead, a white star appears, split vertically in two, standing out from the dark blue. Could it be...?
Then it's the vertical stripes in red and white and the red ends to long white sleeves. It is...
But before you can ask whether he's really Captain America, before you can breathe "Make mine Marvel", he's passed by, zipping up his top against the cold.
And if you turn, just to make sure your eyes aren't deceiving you, you will see his hood hanging down his back, blue with the A upside down.
Excelsior.
On the pod:
One True Love - Semisonic
On the front page:
PC: I sold shoplift story of Terry's mother (London Evening Standard)
On the subject: http://andhisthoughtsarefullofstrangers.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/make-mine-marvel.html
08/03/2013
On the way:
The mist is so thick the towers on the bridge disappear into the clouds as you walk below them.
Ahead, a white star appears, split vertically in two, standing out from the dark blue. Could it be...?
Then it's the vertical stripes in red and white and the red ends to long white sleeves. It is...
But before you can ask whether he's really Captain America, before you can breathe "Make mine Marvel", he's passed by, zipping up his top against the cold.
And if you turn, just to make sure your eyes aren't deceiving you, you will see his hood hanging down his back, blue with the A upside down.
Excelsior.
On the pod:
One True Love - Semisonic
On the front page:
PC: I sold shoplift story of Terry's mother (London Evening Standard)
On the subject: http://andhisthoughtsarefullofstrangers.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/make-mine-marvel.html
String theory
On the day:
07/03/2013
On the way:
Back at the station on a drizzly morning, his legs swing loosely in slim-fit grey trousers teamed today with a neat navy raincoat. Neat. It's how the snappiest City marionettes are dressed this damp season.
His phone is in one hand, tablet in the other, but neither are receiving the attention to which they have become accustomed. His head drops forward, lifelike, as though his eyes have noticed something on the platform paving.
No. Oh no. It's his shoes.
His knee joints fold and his legs form a diamond as his hand drops down to flick a bead of water from black suede uppers.
Really?
Well that's gone and broken the illusion. Even a puppet would know not to wear suede in this kind of weather.
On the pod:
Like Janis - Rodriguez
On the front page:
Huhne and Pryce face jail over speeding lies (The Times)
On the subject: http://andhisthoughtsarefullofstrangers.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/strung-up.html
07/03/2013
On the way:
Back at the station on a drizzly morning, his legs swing loosely in slim-fit grey trousers teamed today with a neat navy raincoat. Neat. It's how the snappiest City marionettes are dressed this damp season.
His phone is in one hand, tablet in the other, but neither are receiving the attention to which they have become accustomed. His head drops forward, lifelike, as though his eyes have noticed something on the platform paving.
No. Oh no. It's his shoes.
His knee joints fold and his legs form a diamond as his hand drops down to flick a bead of water from black suede uppers.
Really?
Well that's gone and broken the illusion. Even a puppet would know not to wear suede in this kind of weather.
On the pod:
Like Janis - Rodriguez
On the front page:
Huhne and Pryce face jail over speeding lies (The Times)
On the subject: http://andhisthoughtsarefullofstrangers.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/strung-up.html
Gravy boat
On the day:
06/03/2013
On the front page:
He sails past, the mortal remains of a pasty held aloft in his right hand, his left dusting crumbs off his belly carpeted in corporate coloured pine green fleece.
A mutter of annoyance is replaced a satisfied grunt as the clears away all evidence of his snack, and on he rolls, a satisfied smile on his face, an unnoticed glob of gravy adhering to the dark hairs below the right side of his lower lip.
On the pod:
I Know A Place - Petula Clark
On the front page:
Prosecutors ordered to crack down on sex abuse (The Times)
06/03/2013
On the front page:
He sails past, the mortal remains of a pasty held aloft in his right hand, his left dusting crumbs off his belly carpeted in corporate coloured pine green fleece.
A mutter of annoyance is replaced a satisfied grunt as the clears away all evidence of his snack, and on he rolls, a satisfied smile on his face, an unnoticed glob of gravy adhering to the dark hairs below the right side of his lower lip.
On the pod:
I Know A Place - Petula Clark
On the front page:
Prosecutors ordered to crack down on sex abuse (The Times)
The last shall be first
On the day:
06/03/2013
On the way:
She's petite, elderly, her eyes sharp snd bright beneath the brim of her fuzzy green-brown hat, and when the bus arrives, the punters respectfully step aside for her to climb on first.
"Oh, thank you very much," says the lady accompanying her, the one with the spikey salt and pepper hair and a big black cardigan. And naturally steps on with her ward, who appears a little surprised at her preferential treatment.
And then the short, traditionally built, middle-aged woman in the fleece-lined, hooded coat, who has worked her way into their wake from the back of the back of the crowd seizes her chance to be next on.
Nice one, madam. That's just the spirit.
On the pod:
Nothing New Under The Sun - Thomas Dolby
On the front page:
'Road rage' mum killed in front of her children (Metro)
06/03/2013
On the way:
She's petite, elderly, her eyes sharp snd bright beneath the brim of her fuzzy green-brown hat, and when the bus arrives, the punters respectfully step aside for her to climb on first.
"Oh, thank you very much," says the lady accompanying her, the one with the spikey salt and pepper hair and a big black cardigan. And naturally steps on with her ward, who appears a little surprised at her preferential treatment.
And then the short, traditionally built, middle-aged woman in the fleece-lined, hooded coat, who has worked her way into their wake from the back of the back of the crowd seizes her chance to be next on.
Nice one, madam. That's just the spirit.
On the pod:
Nothing New Under The Sun - Thomas Dolby
On the front page:
'Road rage' mum killed in front of her children (Metro)
Step up
On the day:
05/03:2013
On the way:
The train arrives. The door opens.
The first woman, elderly, in a warm fawn coat, carefully considers this startling innovation to her immediate environment, this opening in front of her, then, with all the alacrity of an arthritic chameleon, reaches out for the hand rail, and climbs on. Fair enough.
Then the second, in her thirties, cropped hair, grey coat with big gold buttons, grass green shopping bag, carefully considers this startling innovation to her immediate environment, this opening in front of her, then, with the speed and spring of a grounded bradypus, or three-toed sloth, reaches out for the hand rail, and climbs on. Come on. It's not like you've never seen a train door opening before.
Ringdingading. The bell sounds to announce the imminent closure of the doors.
Then the third woman, mid-twenties, slim, slick as a sealion in office black, with long, dark hair that won't grow, carefully considers this startling innovation to her immediate environment, this opening in front of her, then, with the kind of balletic jete you might expect from of a mature walrus, reaches out for the hand rail, and climbs on. You're kidding, right?
And a fourth, early twenties, an uneccessarily large magenta bow set to 'fascinate' tied on just behind her hairline above her left eyebrow, carefully considers this startling innovation to her immediate environment, this opening in front of her...
Oh please it's not a funeral; its two or three stops on the train, not a journey into that bourne from which no traveller returns.
Although sometimes...
On the pod:
Soon - My Bloody Valentine
On the front page:
Failings in NHS cost 30,000 lives every year (The Times)
05/03:2013
On the way:
The train arrives. The door opens.
The first woman, elderly, in a warm fawn coat, carefully considers this startling innovation to her immediate environment, this opening in front of her, then, with all the alacrity of an arthritic chameleon, reaches out for the hand rail, and climbs on. Fair enough.
Then the second, in her thirties, cropped hair, grey coat with big gold buttons, grass green shopping bag, carefully considers this startling innovation to her immediate environment, this opening in front of her, then, with the speed and spring of a grounded bradypus, or three-toed sloth, reaches out for the hand rail, and climbs on. Come on. It's not like you've never seen a train door opening before.
Ringdingading. The bell sounds to announce the imminent closure of the doors.
Then the third woman, mid-twenties, slim, slick as a sealion in office black, with long, dark hair that won't grow, carefully considers this startling innovation to her immediate environment, this opening in front of her, then, with the kind of balletic jete you might expect from of a mature walrus, reaches out for the hand rail, and climbs on. You're kidding, right?
And a fourth, early twenties, an uneccessarily large magenta bow set to 'fascinate' tied on just behind her hairline above her left eyebrow, carefully considers this startling innovation to her immediate environment, this opening in front of her...
Oh please it's not a funeral; its two or three stops on the train, not a journey into that bourne from which no traveller returns.
Although sometimes...
On the pod:
Soon - My Bloody Valentine
On the front page:
Failings in NHS cost 30,000 lives every year (The Times)
Snakes on a train
On the day:
05/03/2013
On the way:
Ropes, as thick as my baby finger, in shades of burgundy, bright burnt orange and tan, snake, twisted and tangled from the back of her head. Like a modern-day Medusa on the morning commute.
Where's Perseus when you need him?
Her face? Oh no, I'm not going there. Get real.
On the pod:
Dreamboat Annie (live) - Heart
On the front page:
Britain slips down world death table (Metro)
05/03/2013
On the way:
Ropes, as thick as my baby finger, in shades of burgundy, bright burnt orange and tan, snake, twisted and tangled from the back of her head. Like a modern-day Medusa on the morning commute.
Where's Perseus when you need him?
Her face? Oh no, I'm not going there. Get real.
On the pod:
Dreamboat Annie (live) - Heart
On the front page:
Britain slips down world death table (Metro)
Speak for yourself
On the day:
02/03/2013
On the way:
At 1.40am on the night bus, people talk. If only to themselves.
Such as the young man in the grey-black top with the Arabian carpet-esque pattern across the shoulders and the bourneville moccasins. And a gradually emptying (on the floor and down his throat) bottle of beer.
"Yeh," he announces, apropos of nothing. "Fat c***."
On the pod:
Rewind - Better Than Ezra
On the front page:
A newspaper? At this time of the morning?
02/03/2013
On the way:
At 1.40am on the night bus, people talk. If only to themselves.
Such as the young man in the grey-black top with the Arabian carpet-esque pattern across the shoulders and the bourneville moccasins. And a gradually emptying (on the floor and down his throat) bottle of beer.
"Yeh," he announces, apropos of nothing. "Fat c***."
On the pod:
Rewind - Better Than Ezra
On the front page:
A newspaper? At this time of the morning?
Strung up
On the day:
28/02/2012
On the way:
He walks with a marionette's swagger as though he has quails' eggs in his change pocket of his grey City suit. The jacket is snug but the trousers reveal his ankle knobs, mercifully covered by black socks. His tie, struggling out of his diagonal lined waistcoat is an iridescent blue with pink lowlights but the silk kerchief protruding from his breast pocket is distinctly pink with strong navy stripes.
When he's sitting in his seat on the train, his left knee achieves perpetual motion, up and down, the invisible hand pulling the strings as strung out as he is strung up, as his attention switches from phone to tablet, tablet to phone, phone to tablet, delivering instructions, demonstrating control.
At the far end of the platform his words are indistinct, but he communicates hands-free, free to add expression in loose-limbed gestures, a shadow puppet against the white sky.
On the pod:
If Nothing Else - Letcher
On the front page:
Divorce? Have a £4,000 bill for photocopying (Metro)
28/02/2012
On the way:
He walks with a marionette's swagger as though he has quails' eggs in his change pocket of his grey City suit. The jacket is snug but the trousers reveal his ankle knobs, mercifully covered by black socks. His tie, struggling out of his diagonal lined waistcoat is an iridescent blue with pink lowlights but the silk kerchief protruding from his breast pocket is distinctly pink with strong navy stripes.
When he's sitting in his seat on the train, his left knee achieves perpetual motion, up and down, the invisible hand pulling the strings as strung out as he is strung up, as his attention switches from phone to tablet, tablet to phone, phone to tablet, delivering instructions, demonstrating control.
At the far end of the platform his words are indistinct, but he communicates hands-free, free to add expression in loose-limbed gestures, a shadow puppet against the white sky.
On the pod:
If Nothing Else - Letcher
On the front page:
Divorce? Have a £4,000 bill for photocopying (Metro)
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