This morning in Pret a Manger, as I walked out into the street I noticed that there was a young woman sitting in the corner with a MacBook chatting happilly into her phone. Next to her sat a woman whose face was tortured with grief and sorrow – silently screaming if not actually sobbing.
I wonder if the guy serving wished her a nice day as he did me.
You should have said to her “Come on, let’s not go to work today. Let’s walk along the river all the way to the sea. We can think of excuses on the way.” I bet she’d have said yes. I wish I’d seen her, I wish that’s what I’d done.
Damn, that’s good. I wandered off thinking I should have done something. Something other than wandering off.
Often on my way to work I see a Hastings train going the other way at London Bridge, and I have to resist the urge to jump platforms in an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind kind of way…
Yes, and Hastings is ideal for that as well. Interesting, seasidey but unpretentious, like the Brighton of Brighton Rock, but arty too, and with a beach full of working fishing boats. The only problem is that the train fare is about eleventy bazillion pounds.
You’d have to bunk the train, no?