Poem on the underground 

Travelling back at night is a weird experience. 

Travelling with people you don’t recognise. 

Travelling with people you know aren’t rushing home to see their family. 

These people are travelling for a different reason. These people are travelling because they’ve not got a lot to go home to. 

They are the regular train goers, they are the regular arrive home late goers.

 You are the stranger. 

These commuters value money and one night of good times more than happiness. 

Artifical love.

But these are also the people that don’t see their loved ones because they love them so much. 

These are the ones that care about the wellbeing of others before themselves. 

They think an average wage results in happiness. Which is true. 

That caring about the realistic makes you a person, not an object.  

They live, we live, we’ve just got to find a balance. 


Love on the 18:07

They must have been 16, because that’s when you start to feel love. Not just I think I love you love, the I can just look at you and I get nervous love. 

Staring into each other’s eyes not saying a word love. 

Not knowing and not caring about the next day love. 

Not love that’ll hurt you at any second. 

Not love that you’re scared  of loosing. Because this love is real and real love doesn’t end. 

+20 minutes 

We’ve all been there. When we were younger and our friend had crutches at primary school you’d always be first to say “can I have a go?” and “they look fun!”. Well let me tell you,  they are most definitely not fun when you’ve got to carry around 12+ stone through London and on hot and sweaty tubes. (the emphasis on sweaty) 

So one rugby and beer festival later I ended up on crutches due to a late tackle to my legs which caused a lovely pop of the knee cap! One Hulk Hogan costume later I was on crutches for 2 weeks minimum. 

I thought I may as well have a little social experiment while I’m stuck on these god awful sticks for two weeks of my life. 

So, you know those priority seats which you are meant to give up to people less able than you are? Well I was less able than 99% of people sat on those seats on the Victoria line.  But that doesn’t mean I was guaranteed a seat when I hobbled onto the tube during rush hour. 

I’m guilty of it and I bet more than half the population are! Of course we’ve seen the guy on crutches or the women with a kids, but we are tired, lazy and grumpy and we don’t want to move. So what do you do?  Youu use every ounce of your I don’t give a shit attitude to avoid any eye contact with these people, even though you feel their glare burning your soul. 

But as I got on the tube, I never once asked for a seat because I wanted to see who would offer one up. I can tell you now, every person that offered their seat was either very polite or couldn’t take the heat from everyone else staring at them and tutting away. 

3 people stick in my mind and two are men. No. 1 – this guy was basically stuck behind me the whole way to the tube, down the escalator, down the corridor, on the platform. Now he could have just got in before me but after seeing a girl basically push me out of the way to get on before me, he then stopped everyone around me to let me get on and then asked if he could get me a seat. I politely declined as I thought no one is going to listen to you and I think I’ve embarrassed you enough. 

No. 2 – This guy was one of the guys sitting in a priority seat. I got on the tube and this older man started frantically tapping on the glass panel behind me. This went on from about 20 seconds before I noticed anything. He then asked if I wanted his seat. Before I said anything I looked to where the  other priority seat was, a young girl probably 17 was seating there.  I thought bitch please, this old man is offering his seat up you should step in. But I loudly said no thank you, and then stared this girl down from Euston to Oxford Circus. 

No. 3 – A lady was sat on a seat, I stood in front of her, not wanting her seat. But after three stops she was like “oh dear, I didn’t see you there. I’m getting off now would you like my seat.” Right I know you’re older and might have bad sight, but come on my crutches were basically on your face. Don’t lie to make yourself look good.

Moral of the story, however old, unable to  walk or pregnant you are,  people commuting on London Underground during rush hour are nobs. 

The 18:07

On the way home everyone looks like they want to sleep or  get absolutely pissed so they don’t have to remember this shit excuse of a Monday, but then they realise they’ve got to be up at half five the next day to do it all again. Don’t get me wrong having the sun as your companion on the way home is a real bonus, over winter you’d go in in the dark and leave the office in the dark and it really made you rethink life. 

I sit here chewing on my pen struggling to write a press release because all I can think is “why does that man keep looking at me funny?”. Okay, yes I have a pen in my mouth like a dog holds a bone but no need to stare mate. I can normally bash out a product alert rather quickly when I’m in the flow of things, pun after pun, but I just need something to put the spring back in my step, that would be a real re-leaf! 

So I’m thinking, what do these people do in the day? One guy really intrigued me last week. So I was sat in my usual seat trying to sleep, as I do every morning, and this guys phone was in full view. By this point I worked out that I could read all the messages he sent and received, so why not snoop a little and make my journey into a work a bit more bareable. Right, so, this guy probably late 20s early 30s messaged about 15 different women on 4 different messaging apps in the space of 10 mins. Now they could be friends but when he starts having nick names for all of them I’m like wow plaaayeerrr. He then begins to look at knives and that’s when I’m like what the hell does he do? Me being the over imaginative person I am was like oh shit he’s going to kill them, he’s a catfish, he’s lying to all of them. I tell my dad and he’s just like hmm Yeh and goes back to his book. I can see their names at this point, do I 1. Message them all. 2. Tell him to stop being a creep. Or 3. None of the above because I’ve got to London and he’s already off the train and down the platform because I’ve been day dreaming from stevenage to Kings cross. Well I guess I’ll never know if he’s planning to open up a restaurant or gut a fish, but let’s hope it’s one of them. 

The 07:48

Ever sat on a train and wondered who is next to you or why is the man three seats in front wearing the biggest hat you’ve ever seen? I have been communting to London now since July last year and you see some right states and slowly create stories for people, as well as begin to secretly hate other people on the train. Especially the little old lady who blocks every single commuter every single day up the stairs coming off the train. Why she feels the need to get off first and block the already agrivated travels, who have been held up for 14 mins so they can’t claim back 5% of their monthly ticket, escapes me. That’s just one of around 10 people I’ve got rivalries on my train as well as the regular tube twats that go from London Kings cross to Oxford Circus. 
I do not know how people have done this route every single day for around 30 years and have not gone to the front of the train, banged on the drivers door and told him to turn the fucking heating down!!

This “blog” is a way for me to rant in privacy so that I can resist standing in the middle of the aisle and shouting abuse at everyone idiot that travels with me on a daily basis. It may be boring but it definitely beats looking at the same fields every day when on the great northern line. 

The Girl on the Great Northern train ✌️