Slakers of Pother on Foot,

‘Kerry loves her 32D boobs’

He must have caught this on his glance round the carriage. His own reading material was of interest to someone else, tired of reading for now, the book was held between his legs, with part of the naked lady on the cover just visible above his thigh; the teenagers opposite stared, before drawling, ‘What’s the next stop?’

The talkative woman chatted though her audience changed, starting with a man returning home from a house viewing and a man visiting his daughter, ‘Sit down, sit down, they’re not a bad crowd’, the ticket inspector beckoned, and she was joined by a commuter whose shift had just finished.

The masses were hesitant to sit, but soon they felt maltreated if they were left standing.

The man of lists was the self-appointed voice of the coach, a director of stage, apparently, with lists, numbers with names and notes besides them, these instructions on envelopes were for later, once retrieved from the floor. ‘If you have reservations, sit on your seat. Ignore the digital displays, they’re not working.’, he ordered. He wanted them seated as quickly as I did. People respected his working space, with two seats, he worked through movements, until no longer possible, ‘warmed it for you, I’m afraid.’

Phones beeped, everyone checked their own and then felt embarrassed by unpopularity, the girl with three in front of her was never to blame, these beeps were mostly for the man who only existed as long legs in the aisle.

The man descended at the town of his daughter to be replaced by a man wearing headphones, he was a misfit within the chatting strangers. Relief came when he and the commuter were displaced by two men working for an agency that provided environmentally-friendly solutions to businesses. The headphone man returned to the vestibule between carriages gazing longingly at the seats, waiting for a seat, an opportunity.

Big Al, the train manager, announced, ‘those not travelling should now leave the train as we are about to leave the station, it’s your loss.’, this remarked achieved a smile in everyone even those so cold to force the elderly to their feet and into the vestibule.

Stuffing his ears with headphones, the lad with the book tried to shut out some of the noise.
With each stop, the fear of being in a reserved seat caused unease, potential victims of rude eviction planned their coping strategies.

The trolley hostess grumped. The social table jovially asked her why and heard her denial. The environmentalists defended the implementation of new waste disposal charges, recycling rules and the defeat of the plastic bag, the chatty woman argued for the right of the public to do what they want.

Big Al, at Dunbar, warned ‘mind the dodgy step down to the platform, we’ve don’t want to lose people down the gap’, before, ‘Hello Dunbar people, I hope you’ve emptied the sand from your shoes’.

Over the tannoy, one stark warning from the trolley hostess followed, ‘this will be the last time that I come through, clear all arms and legs to let me pass’.

And everyone sings, ‘ba ba ba da ba da ba’