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Train Station
Continuing yesterday’s theme, I was thinking this morning about my people watching habits, and the regular cast of players that make up my morning journey to work. It’s like the station platform is split into groups of similarly thinking people, why do I always stand halfway up the platform then, after checking we are getting six carriages and not three as the train pulls round the corner, do I start walking further up the platform. I’m not the only one who does this, there is a regular group of us:

  • Sauntering Woman. Looks like she would’ve been described as ‘gangly’ when she was a child, this middle-aged woman takes her time walking up the platform. To say she saunters is generous, it’s more like a funeral march, including that little pause between steps. Mind you it is quite amusing to watch her as she collects more and more people behind her as she weaves her way up the platform.
  • Short Hair Ladies Club. A group of thirty-something women who seemingly either all visit the same hairdresser, or read the same hairstyle magazines. Is there a name for this hairstyle? The tomboy look? Urchin look? I think you know the one I mean.
  • Loud Woman. She meets every morning with what I can only presume to be work colleagues (the uniform is a bit of a give away, which was surprising as I thought they would’ve charged something). She talks loudly. About nothing. All the way to Glasgow. She is on the far reaches of our little ‘halfway up the platform’ group but I’m pretty sure that everyone in the surrounding neighbourhood can hear here. I’ve yet to sit in the same carriage as her for fearing of being arrested.
  • Greasy, Pushy, Civil Servant Man. Not a strict member of the group as he gets on at a different station but still a regular, annoying feature. Mid-30s, shoulder length lank hair that always looks like it needs washing. He will happily push the elderly and infirm out of the way to get his seat. No seriously, on a homeward bound journey (always busier than in the mornings) he was asked by another passenger to give up his seat for a heavily pregnant woman who had just managed to squeeze into the carriage. The little shit said “Why should I?” before he sighed heavily and got up.
  • The Grumpy Man, ohh no hang on, that’s me…

Quite the little focus group aren’t we, although I’ll admit to being slightly disturbed about this. After all, while I don’t know these people, but I do judge them on their looks, I wonder what they think of me?