I’m a voyeur, I’ll happily admit it, I bet you are too. So sitting on the train on the way home tonight I glanced around the carriage, a woman reading some soppy book (pink cover, dead giveaway), another woman marking up a powerpoint about financial analysis, a few people reading Metro or the Evening Times. One man was reading a glossy magazine, high quality paper and cover, so must’ve been expensive. The article he was reading had a diagram, looked like a step-by-step kinda thing, of how to open a tin.
I’ll pause and let that sink in.
(A tin of what? tin of paint? tin of beans? tin of worms?)
Think beans. Think old fashioned tin opener. Think staring at the page for 20 minutes.
Frustratingly I didn’t manage to catch the cover so I will probably never know what it was he was so engrossed in… the fine art of tin opening? the succulent, post modern lines of a tin of beans? or the manufacturing process that hones rough material into a thing of exquisite design? Whatever it was, oh that I could take such deep pleasure from something so, seemingly, simple. A lesson to us all I think.
[removes tongue from cheek]