You probably judged this article the moment you read the title..
But no, this is not about the trains themselves, but rather the individuals I’m occupying it with..
As I sit here slurping my decaf skinny latte, sprawled over more chairs than necessary in my Art Deco-style printed trousers, I can’t help but mock myself over how much I currently fit the stereotype of the teenage blogger.
But in the same way that I probably am a little pretentious, not all stereotypes are based on fictional creations, and with every label naturally comes a degree of truth.
I speak of labels as I’m currently commuting from Stockport to Lincoln on a fairly quiet train, and being the fly on the wall that I am, this is the ideal situation for people-watching.. Not to judge, but rather to study.
The man sat in front of me I’d guess was in his mid-30’s.
We’ll call him Andrew.
At face value, I’d say Andrew was a little intimidating. Not as a character, but more in his proportions. He’s slim and healthy but that’s not the point.. I mean, I can see both of his shoulders even though I’m sat behind him, and this chair is pretty wide.
Safe to say I’m easily intimidated, but that’s commonplace when you’re scraping 5 foot 3 and where your entire life is like a reenactment of ‘walking with dinosaurs’.
On my right there’s this sweet old man trying his hardest to strike a conversation with the twenty something woman beside him. As his Nokia phone continues to repeatedly ring and lose signal.
I learn his name is James.
Now the speed in which this lady beside him is flicking through The Telegraph is making it pretty clear that she isn’t actually reading a word of what’s printed.
My guess would be that she’s just using this opportunity to flick her wrist around more to show the rest of us her flashy watch.. Nice try buddy, I’m onto you.
I’d imagine though it’s probably more to do with stopping James from continuing to snoop over her shoulder.. I mean what sort of person snoops in on others people’s business..