A couple of days ago in the middle of the afternoon I stood on the platform of the Victoria line at Walthamstow Central train station and it was entirely empty. It put the biggest grin on my face. Ah, to be alone. I thought maybe I could try out a skip. Or throw some moves. I settled with the gormless grin. After a couple of minutes a station cleaner walked in and plonked himself on a bench. However, if I looked slightly to the left and squinted I could easily pretend he wasn�t there.
Yesterday I took Evan (a boy I sometimes look after) to a shop on the train station platform. What I was not expecting was the high levels of excitement it would invoke. Train! People get on! Workmen! Tracks! Train! Fixing! Engine! I had forgotten the Thomas the Tank Engine obsession. He had a tantrum when it was time to leave. Life�s so hard when you�re two.
I think M has abandoned me or run off with a sailor or something. There is some slack communication going on in these fields. Admittedly I am responsible for half of it but c�mon talk to me Jimmy!
On Monday night Jack and I realised we have been working together for two years and a day. He knows this because his library membership started the day we did. Mine started in 1987. On our first evening together we spoke about four words. I occasionally think it would be nice to go back to that. My sidekick and I (maybe I�m the sidekick and he�s the star) have evolved from the feeble days of elastic band pinging to the highly developed and ultra subtle pain inflicting methods of today. Hooray for that.
Shit me! M has rung on the wireless boat phone thingy (however they communicate on ships. Semaphore? Flare? Carrier pigeon? Albatross?) from the starboard to say he has been watching Troy with Timbo.
Soso