Friday 25 July 2008

Manchester: 8:22AM

This morning I lost a close friend under the wheels of a train. It was the button from the shoulder of my favourite casual jacket. It had got stuck under the strap of my bag which, I pulled the bag from my shoulder, went ping and merrily rolled along the platform before it disappeared under the wheels of the second carriage. It was something of a highpoint.

The train was packed. I found a spare seat next to an aspiring Jordan, her jacket and bag sitting in the chair.

‘Can I sit down, please?’ I ask.

She moves the jacket’s cuff all of one inch to make one third of the seat available to me. I’m not a man to make a scene – much as I would love to be – so I sat down as she made a tactical move for territory by taking up the whole of the table with her OK Magazine. This is how I came to I spend my journey from Manchester Airport reading Katie Andre’s column about ‘what a laugh we had at Club Slap which we got to at midnight but I needed to be up early the next day so I called it a night at around three and Pete wanted a shag...’ I have the luxury or reading the magazine because this delightful creature answers her phone (hands free) and I have to listen to her barking laughter in my ear for the next twenty minutes.

‘Life is so hard,’ she tells her friend. ‘How many holes are you going to play today?’

3 comments:

Monika said...

Just think how much better your life is for knowing what Katie Price is up to! Now you can sleep well tonight. We lived in the UK briefly at the end of last year as part of my husband's ex-pat assignment. I could not get over your country's obsession with Katie Price! And Kerry Katona, who was a woman I'd never even heard of before coming to your country. I had to read her bio as I thought I was missing out on something (I wasn't). I must admit, you do have real fish 'n' chips and mushy peas which still make me keep coming back there for visits.

NigelBeale said...

This character sketch is worthy of Maugham.

Anonymous said...

i usually stare at them and say with an edge of hillbilly menace, "'scuse me", often with my tongue just protruding from my lips. Just keep staring at them - they'll shift their crap.