The tube in London follows its own laws; e.g.  tube staff still think that a time table is a table with a watch on it. They have some other odd ideas as well, like being unable to work after midnight or before five o’clock in the morning. In a city where almost everything is run on a 24 hour base, this medieval conception of time is quite extraordinary. Add to it that they are grossly overpaid and still go on regular strikes to blackmail even more money from commuters then you know just what Londoners have to put up with. It is therefore no surprise that every station and every train is adorned with an advert saying ‘don’t take it out on the staff’.

Once you have managed to find a train that is running, maybe even to where you want it to go to, you are still in an enchanted realm. It is quite surprising, but seemingly 50 percent of the British don’t own a mirror, and more than half of the rest don’t know how to use it.

Going into a train one day, my eyes were assailed by a neon pink blouse of a brightness to make the sun ashamed. Maybe the sheer glare wouldn’t have been quite so shocking if there hadn’t been so much blouse material. It must have had more Xs to its size than stitches to its hem, and it was filled to bursting point. Pink, eat your heart out, you’ll never out pink that lady. And I swear I never touch Gin.

Men in short trousers are another item of wonderment. Whatever makes them imagine someone wants to look at their knobbly knees or stringy legs is a mystery unsolved. A highlight in that category was a young man combining the short trousers with calf high black boots. The boots were left open and you could see he was not wearing socks inside. He certainly cut an exceptional appearance.

Even fashionistas feel the pinch, seemingly. There was that girl in a flowery dress which was definitely made up from her grandmother’s curtains; it might even have been a bedspread in its former life. It was held together by a bright red sash coming from a Xmas present. The shoulder free top in off white probably used to be mother’s tea cosy. An astonishing statement on recycling, don’t you think so as well?

And then there was the girl with the most beautiful rich red hair, all neatly tucked up and piled on top of her head. What made my teeth hurt was the fact that they were held together by a contraption that was adorned with a pink flower. I barely had time to think ‘at least it’s not orange’, when she turned her head to reveal the orange flower hidden behind the pink one. I was sorely tempted to hand her a carrot to push through her knot in lieu of a bone. She must have been on the war path.

But outside the tube there are also curious people. One day near my home, I watched a girl getting out of a car. As she unfolded herself to full length, I couldn’t help thinking that these were probably the longest legs I had ever seen on a girl. The length was further enhanced by extremely high stilettos and the skimpiest mini skirt imaginable. As she minced towards me, I had to revise my opinion: They were definitely not the longest legs I had ever seen on a girl. But they were the longest legs I had ever seen on a boy wearing stilettos and a mini skirt.

More adventures on the London tube:

Oh, to be in England

The DLR and the Tube