To the very attractive dude on the tube this morning,
We both got on in Brixton about 1030, you sat opposite me and we checked each other out many times but every time you looked at me I went bright red and looked at the floor. I couldn’t even crack a smile my heart was racing. You were wearing a striped singlet, an actual nice pair of track pants, tan suede Nike high-tops and carrying a hoodie. We both changed at Piccadilly and very coincidentally were both going eastbound. As we stood awkwardly on the platform, exchanging glances I was too much of a sad loser to just say hello so I hid behind a group of Asian tourists, as we got on the train in different carriages, I got off at Piccadilly Circus and looked back to see you already looking at me.
I will forever be looking for you in the streets dude on the tube, and I hope we awkwardly share a platform together again one day…
Red faced loser from Brixton
#rushhourcrush #metronewspaper #spreadthelove #tubecrush
To the very attractive dude on the tube this morning,
I always go to bed at a very sensible time every night, play on my phone for a bit then turn in for some for some sleeps. And nearly every single night when I am juuuuust drifting off, I have an idea of something to write about pop into my head or I get some ridiculous flash back memory from my childhood, of which I remember virtually nothing about every waking moment of my life otherwise, only when I’m half asleep. And if I don’t write this shit down it completely disappears back into the abyss forever.
I’m choosing to write down tonight’s flashback because it was definitely a glimpse into my future even then…
Picture fat, blonde 6 year old me, I had a fat, black guinea pig called Shadow, I had jammed Barbie shoes on his tiny feet, put a flouncy scrunchie around his neck (it didn’t choke him don’t worry) and put a skirt around his middle that I had stripped off a teddy bear. Slotted him into an adjustable length plastic roller skate filled with clovers (his favourite food) so he would just feed his fat face and stay in the skate while I pushed him up and down the drive way. I was wearing just a pair of undies and a jumper with a picture on the front of penguins in Antarctica and “there’s no business like snow business” written across the front. It was my favourite jumper. I still wouldn’t see actual snow for a few decades to come.
An uncomfortable taxi ride home after the madness tonight right where we were celebrating our wrap party for the epic feature that we just created, ‘Mary Poppins Returns’ in the Tower of London, the driver was aggravated ranting about muslims and terrorists, immigrants and keeping Britain British. I stay silent while he goes on and on, then he asks me what I think. I tell him that hate breeds hate and one religious group cannot be held accountable to represent it as a whole. Nor can religion be used as an excuse for violence as it has done for thousands of years but has seemingly been ok because it is under the guise of a ‘god’, and isn’t it just so convenient that he was born into the ‘right’ beliefs not the ones he is blaming on the state of the world.
Then it was his turn to fall silent.
Unfortunately not because he soaked in what I said and understood my point of view, but because I had an accent and was clearly not from this part of the world. He then said “So you’re a foreigner, do you live here? You’re an immigrant? Where are you from? How long have you been here?” With a tone of slight aggression. I said to him that I didn’t need to explain my background to him to justify my existence in this very taxi, in this very county in this very world. I am a global citizen and as long as I continue to travel and live in countries around the world and contribute to each society, each town, each suburb, each community, then what does it matter where my roots lie? My eyes are open and I am totally awake. And the more you are, the more you see. His response was that “whatever island you’re from, and it ain’t anywhere in Europe, you wouldn’t understand”
I’m not one for a serious rant on here, I tend to stick to my brain farts and idiotic thoughts but this hit hard with the fact that even places as multicultural as London, there is a mindset within some people that is stuck in the dark ages which obviously needs to change, (i.e.; brexit) and even though the United Kingdom is my birth country and I am now more British on paper than I am kiwi, my ‘god’ I feel so privileged to have truly come from another multicultural society that is now more than ever actively working towards equality, race relations and nurturing the history of our country that I always have and always will call home.
Hate breeds hate, love breeds love. Spread the latter and hold on to your values as a human being wether it be spiritual or not. Value each other, value the power of love and affection for those in your life. Value hugs, value birthdays, value a phone call to catch up, value compliments, value friendships old and new. It could change and save lives.
On a lighter note, I saw my second baby fox over the weekend. He was hanging about by a park I was driving past, looking fairly lost. So I pulled over and tried to catch him. He ran across the road and into someone’s front garden. I jumped the fence and rummaged through the bushes looking for him. The owner of the house came out and started yelling at me “what the hell are you doing on my property, this is not a public toilet you bum” yadda yadda, I was squatting in an awkward position, anyway I tried to explain why I was there but he wasn’t having a bar of it and retrieved a cricket bat from his hallway. I jumped the fence again, ripping the crotch right out of my jeans and got back in my (fancy brand new very sexy) car and continued home.
So I saw Elton John at work today, he drives a red Bentley (well, he has a driver) he wears two piece matching tracksuits like a good British person and he’s an old man now.
That’s all I got for the day…
I see so many running clubs/groups when I’m driving home from work at night that have ended their jog with a beer all together at a pub and all I want to do is get into my exercise gear, slap my cheeks red, pour a glass of water over myself, and ‘catch up’, panting, pretending I’ve just done the run with them, get myself a beer at the bar and hang out with all my new mates.
Bought a new car.
Sat at several sets of lights in said new car next to Richard Branson who had a woman in his passenger seat dressed like princess Fiona from Srek.
Got drunk in the day time.
Sprayed sparkling water over every surface of a taxi.
Got yelled at by the taxi driver.
Said Selamat Hari Raya to him.
He yelled at me again (he’s not Muslim)
Did some sleeps.
McDonald’s – spelling ‘through’ wrong since 1955 and getting away with it.