Tales of daily life from a 20-something Student from London.

Saturday, 15 October 2011

It's been too long!

Yeah. Sorry. I know I've been kinda shit at this recently. But hey, let's pretend this isn't the kind of reunion like when you see an ex at a party and things are really awkward. Let's ensure this is one of those 'meet up with an old buddy, end up in a gay bar getting free drinks from a guy who apparently worked one shift there, then all end up in Camden' kinda reunions (I'm looking at you, Tom Hewitt).

Anyway, I hope everyone is having a great time doing whatever they're doing be it uni, work, or dossing around playing Fifa12. But I guess I should tell you an embarrassing story to make your Saturday morning reading of this more interesting, right? 


Recently, I went to meet one of my friends in London and, after a good night getting a bit merry, decided I'd grab the last train home. Coffee in my hand, I sat down on the train at Kings Cross waiting for it to depart. Having had a nightmare a couple weeks back where I ended up in West Horndon due to falling asleep (which regular readers will know about), I was determined to stay awake. Only the woman next to me didn't share that sentiment.

As I neared Hatfield, I did that awkward stand-up to hope she felt me stir and move accordingly. She did not. I coughed, fairly loudly. She was still solid as a proverbial rock, much like Ashford and Simpson's love. What was I going to do? Is it ok to like... poke her? Surely not. The train was slowing and the tension was building. It was now or Welwyn. I stuck out my finger and slowly jabbed her arm and, like a shot, she looked at me and had obviously got up on the wrong side of the seat. The train had stopped.

"Why are you touching me?!?" she shouted.

It was too late. I was already off the train. 

Over and out.