A whaletail swished by, thin black stripes on deepest ebony. And then she was gone, never to be seen again off in search of another toilet. I was on the train to Shrewsbury to visit an old friend. Shrews. Bury. Strange name which conjures up images of furry rodent types. And graveyards. I've never been to Shrewsbury. Does anyone go to Shrewsbury? My friend has to pick up her mother who is spending the evening doing Scottish country dancing. In Shrewsbury. Interesting.
As I look down the corridor I see a tall besuited man open his Selfridges bag to reveal a pair of metallic blue Nike football boots to show to his beer drinking mates. The tattooed, bleach blonde mountain sitting next to me tuts and grumbles to herself as the Portuguese in the corner chat merrily and share their M&S crisps. The toilet is still broken.
The mountain takes a call on her mobile "That will be £6 my love. Come along on Sunday for ring training. Yeah, we go through all the basic wrestling moves". The Portuguese turn out to be Brazillian. Their chat up lines don't seem to be working on the receptionist in a pink Tee, "I don't speak Brazillian", she giggles and then turns to me with a look that says 'ooh I do pick 'em don't I?!'. People still try to use the broken toilet.
#14 May 2006
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