The little things

I am a sucker for peer pressure, and have been suckered into committing to this blog. Unfortunately it's seldom that I have much in the way of insightful notions to impart upon the raging masses that flock to this blog on a daily basis, and today, I am sick, and uninspired. Boredom is a factor.

Since last week was my 1 yr anniversary in Londre I figure it might be nice to reminisce about what makes this land of the pale and patient just so darn special, because the weather just isn't cutting it.

The public commute is a personal favourite of mine, although I'd never publicly admit it. But where else can you be exposed to this much entertainment in a small space, as simply a sideshow while you going from A to B? There's a little something for everyone. On Saturday nights the tube is littered with special people - I was the bemused witness to a domestic between a sober guy and his tanked girlfriend who was kind enough to keep her voice just loud enough that I could pause my ipod but keep the earphones in; or MC Hammer jamming it up and breaking it down on the platform and then for half our trip home. Some may say it wasn't him, but they're liars.

The ink from the Metro always provides mild amusement as someone will inevitably smudge it on their face, I was a repeat offender, and as commuters are islands and do not interact, no one will say a word, but judge, silently.

Manners do not exist on the London Underground and chivalry goes right out the window as soon as you tap your Oystercard... I like it. It's a great way to vent. At first I was intimidated and shocked but now I find that sometimes I'm the person shoving someone out the way for standing on the LEFT hand side of the escalator, a crime which has no equivalent punishment, a sin beyond all sins. They're lucky to be pushed to the side and not down, although there is that burning urge... The only person worse than this is the person who gets to the barrier and then looks for their card - come on!!

Aside from the commuting, England has the biggest guilty conscience ever, people over here recycle. But not just a few papers and bottles like some do in SA, they freaking recycle everything. They have an entire page in the Metro dedicated to a greener London and articles about how teenagers lie awake at night, tossing and turning, wracked with concern about global warming. Lies, when I was a teenager I was concerned with boys, clothes, shoes and being cool - really cool.

Adolescence aside, there is something to be said for recycling, and over here I do it. And I like it... Try it - I am saving the world one Fosters can at a time. I drink so many just to prevent them landing in the hands of a non-recycler. Thank me later, or not at all, I'm just doing what I gotta do.

Coming up next time I call in sick on a Monday - Identity cards/theft/lack thereof; and the delightful youth.