Setting
"Watch your step!"
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Setting
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10:27am.
As always, the guard had taken off early for his break. His condition wrought havoc with the guys bladder - diabetes, judging by the dozen or so sweet wrappers he recalled seeing in the guys pockets over the weeks. With a reluctant groan, I haul myself over the barriers and give the camera a ritual wave. Caroline Flinn - identifiable as an employee for British Telecoms by her name-badge, always pinned to her left lapel - was running late today. She crossed me on the third step from the bottom, rather than the fourth from the top. Even with my hood pulled snuggly around my head, the chill of the mid-winter air bites my flesh. Three degrees with a chance of showers this morning. As always, the complete 'weather timetable' of the day followed, right the way up until -5 at 2:00am. That shit was going to hurt.
The train arrived exactly on time.
Narrowing my eyes suspiciously at the train - it was never on time, I wait for the doors to open while a female voice reminds me to 'mind the step'. As if my plan had been to stick my head down there and have a peek.
"Hey!" I look up from beneath the cover of my hood with a raised eyebrow. The security guard was panting slightly, standing at the bottom of the steps. "You didn't. Pay."
"I know?"
The doors slid shut. Rolo - affectionately named because five of the twelve items I had recorded in his pockets had been exactly that - was left standing on the platform, red-faced and embarrassed. It was eleven stops from Dagenham Heathway to Mile End - about three hours, on the district line (actually 38.3 minutes on average, his mind reminded him). Id been sent a text (at 7:23am, of all possible times) by The Administrator to meet some ditzy yank chick.
Just my luck.
As always, the guard had taken off early for his break. His condition wrought havoc with the guys bladder - diabetes, judging by the dozen or so sweet wrappers he recalled seeing in the guys pockets over the weeks. With a reluctant groan, I haul myself over the barriers and give the camera a ritual wave. Caroline Flinn - identifiable as an employee for British Telecoms by her name-badge, always pinned to her left lapel - was running late today. She crossed me on the third step from the bottom, rather than the fourth from the top. Even with my hood pulled snuggly around my head, the chill of the mid-winter air bites my flesh. Three degrees with a chance of showers this morning. As always, the complete 'weather timetable' of the day followed, right the way up until -5 at 2:00am. That shit was going to hurt.
The train arrived exactly on time.
Narrowing my eyes suspiciously at the train - it was never on time, I wait for the doors to open while a female voice reminds me to 'mind the step'. As if my plan had been to stick my head down there and have a peek.
"Hey!" I look up from beneath the cover of my hood with a raised eyebrow. The security guard was panting slightly, standing at the bottom of the steps. "You didn't. Pay."
"I know?"
The doors slid shut. Rolo - affectionately named because five of the twelve items I had recorded in his pockets had been exactly that - was left standing on the platform, red-faced and embarrassed. It was eleven stops from Dagenham Heathway to Mile End - about three hours, on the district line (actually 38.3 minutes on average, his mind reminded him). Id been sent a text (at 7:23am, of all possible times) by The Administrator to meet some ditzy yank chick.
Just my luck.
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