Everyday People

Every working day I get the bus and the train to work.  I share the space with the usual faces.  The same people on the 7:30am bus into the city.

The college students who always sit in the corner, barricading themselves in with bags so they're not disturbed.  And go to sleep.  No idea where they're going as they get off after my stop.  

School children in their uniforms in various states of immaculateness who get on and off at various points in our journey laden with rucksacks and folders.  Chatting with their friends or with headphones on and faces firmly in their phones.  

The Tubblet is one of them.  We say goodbye to each other at the front door then studiously ignore each other for the rest of the journey.  No one wants to travel part of the way to school with their mum.  

Today, the bus driver is insisting on seeing all the children's Saver cards and charging adult fare to anyone who doesn't have one.  I know "rules is rules" but the drivers don't always bother. The cards seem a bit pointless during the week. I doubt if anyone would dress in full school uniform to try and save a few pennies.  (Let alone be able to carry it off successfully).  

The woman with hair coloured in what my hairdresser unkindly calls "menopausal red".  She, like me, is on her way to London.  She gets off at the station as well and boards the train.  

The young lad in outdoor clothing and wellingtons who works with horses.  

The Muslim lady in a hijab who I'm friendly in a "smile, nod and get on the bus really slowly if we see each other running towards it" kind of way.  

A suited and booted chap with a very nice briefcase who is probably something in the city.  He sometimes sits with a friend who has very big, very white headphones. 

One woman, dressed in her work uniform, talks non-stop on her phone.  I've never heard her pause for breath or for the other person to reply.  The non-stop flow of words is exhausting.  But she's kind with it.  When we all got turfed off as the bus on one service had broken down and the other service was suspended, she grabbed me and several other regulars and bundled us all into a taxi.  That'll teach me.  Must not give into uncharitable and unkind thoughts.  

Then there's the few regulars who seem to be strangers to washing.  Sitting next to someone who smells faintly of wee or strongly of BO is not pleasant.  (I'm not their best friend so I'm not telling them).  A seat's a seat though so if needs must.   Just breathe through the mouth ...

Then there's me.  Resplendent in my office wear.  Lurking behind a copy of Metro or my Kindle while people watching. 

I don't often see the same people on the train.  I don't get the same one each morning.  It really depends on the bus.  Occasionally I see people from the office who live locally.  We smile wryly at each other before our eyes slide away.  It's bit early for work related small talk.  I haven't had a coffee yet.

All strangers but still my commuter buddies.  The return journey is different.  I rarely see the same people then.  Just a lot of people who are very focused on getting that first seat on the train. 

I sometimes wonder what happens to all those faces we see ... Does our brain store them somewhere and, if it does. what does it use them for?  Do they pop up in our dreams?  

Tomorrow I'll squint at my travel companions again and wonder if I'd recognise them if I saw them elsewhere.  What do you reckon?

Sharing with all these great Linkys

Liberty @ Liberty on the Lighter Side

Sarah @kipperscurtains