Chimchimeny etc etc…. And if there’s time for a Mexican Wave…

There’s no debating the issue – Mondays need oomph! Not caffeine and over-priced muffins, not insanely unnecessary broadsheets (why so big? why?!?!?) and certainly not the unwelcome sight of seeing ones breath arrive at the platform edge before you do – soooooooooo cold!!!

As a stare aimlessly down the carriage, trying desperately to avoid the temptation to start a Mexican Wave – I feel this should be a mandatory requirement on all public transport – I notice something tall, dark and rather grubby. It’s only a chimney sweep and his sweepy thing! How very nostalgic and utterly exciting! Where is he going? What magnificent home will he be de-sooting? Visions of late 19th century mansions spring to mind as I find myself drifting in-and-out of ‘Julie Andrew’s’ mode.

As I watch Mr Sweep and his sweeper disappear into the distant pack of commuters, I begin to wish I was that soot covered brush, holding my head high above the hustle and bustle of the world below, not to mention all the awesome interior design tips I pick up working my way around the mansions of London. Devine. Maybe the Mexican Wave can wait until tomorrow…


Sibling rivalry rush-hour style.

As half term is in full swing, it becomes apparent that not only parents feel the strain –  sibling rivalry is rife!

“You’re using the keyboard.” Butter wouldn’t melt, curly blonde-haired, younger brother.

“No, I’m using my laptop. Not the keyboard. Would you like a go?” Older brother – post Harry Potter, pre Twilight mentality – his gesture is purely for show, no intention of lending Curly his prize possession.

“No, I don’t want a go. The laptop is rubbish.” Curly hair replies with some gusto.

“You’re not my brother!!!” Top of his voice, enough to turn heads, teenage angst.

Dad’s reaction – a really good impression of wearing an invisibility cloak! Hang on in there, only four days to go…

Left, right, left right, left……right?

The two male voices were becoming increasingly loud. Everyone was staring – it would’ve been rude not too.

“You’re wrong mate, that’s not how it is,” said commuter ‘A’.

“Look, you were in my way, you got it wrong,” replied commuter ‘B’.

“I’m sorry mate, but you got it wrong. I can’t believe this. You were in the wrong!” Commuter ‘A’ was beginning to get irate, some much so, that he exaggeratedly removed his sports holdall from his shoulder and chucked it onto the platform.

“This is bloody ridiculous, I’m gonna miss my train now,” commuter ‘B’ followed suit and threw his bag to the ground. “Just admit it, mate, you got it wrong up there, you got in my way. Seriously, wrong side, mate.”

What could one of them have got so wrong? What had caused these otherwise inconspicuous gentlemen, to have a very public disagreement, on Clapham Junction’s ever-so-slightly-busy platform 11? I was, at this point, hoping my train was delayed simply to hear how the whole thing resolved itself.

“If you admit you’re wrong we can leave it at that and get on with things. I don’t understand. You’re crazy.” Commuter ‘B’ now adamant he is correct.

“Look, its simple rules,” said commuter ‘A’, “you walk on the right – everyone knows that!” And with this profound statement, he picked up his sports bag, and stormed off.

I’m sorry. Am I mistaken here? Two grown men having an argument about which side of the platform stairs to walk down? You have got to be kidding me?! AB-SO-LUTE-LY hilarious!  Anyway, I always thought it was the left. Right?

All aboard the gravy train!

“Oh no, I needed to get some rosemary for dinner.”

“It won’t be missed, it won’t be missed.”                                             

“It will be missed, I need it for the gravy. You like a tasty gravy.”

“I do like a tasty gravy.”

When a single lane road becomes a three-lane affair

Like most women I like to survey my castle’s surroundings at any given opportunity. I call it being inquisitive my partner calls it nosey. Either way, when I hear a horning session that lasts more than a few seconds, I’m interested. Living at the bottom of a busy cross roads, there are undoubtedly times when drivers get a little irate and reach for the horn. This morning was unlike any I’ve witnessed before. Three vehicles attempted to take pole position turning into a single lane residential road. This resulted in a ridiculous scene of mass confusion from on-coming drivers (the three cars in question having spread into the opposing lane). This, together with a barrage of hootin’ n tootin’ and the arrival of our bi-weekly recycling truck was enough to keep me entertained while I sipped my oh so calming peppermint tea!

When is it appropriate to do lunges on a train?

In my experience (!) never. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against early morning exercise, but to subject an entire carriage full of rush-hour commuters to aisle lunges, pole stretches and extreme heavy breathing, is neither pleasant nor necessary. I have seen grown men wince while ‘Mr Lunge’ ungracefully thrusts his pelvis into any available space. I dread to think where he showers down………..

“Dad, who is the hairiest in the family?”

Have you ever made eye contact with a fellow passenger at precisely the wrong moment? Well, this was up there with one of my most awkward. I find inquisitive children simply adorable, but there are some questions that really don’t need asking. “Dad, who is the hairiest in the family?” As I quickly averted my eyes and tried desperately to disguise my sniggering, the dad in question (now a wonderful shade of crimson) made for a quick exit by simply laughing it off saying: “I don’t really know, let’s ask mummy when we get home. Can you see the London Eye yet?”  You have to give it to the London skyline, its rescued many an embarrassed parent.