Observation

Sorry that this has taken me so long to do. I actually did two observations and so I have had a look through both notes to try and decide what to do. I've turned this first one into poetry but I think that I've lost the voice a little bit. Because the effect that I was trying to achieve was someone talking about somebody else rather than them self? Anyway, have a read and let me know. I think that I am going to attempt a bit of prose with the other but not sure yet.

Excuse me kind sir, do you have a minute?

No I didn’t expect that you would, you do seem to be in a bit of a rush.

The hours don’t pass half as quickly as you’d like them to.

You’re pacing through the streets waiting for the world to catch up,

Either that or move out of the way.

Like this woman in front of you for example.

Blocking the way whilst she fumbles for her oyster card in that ridiculous Mary Poppins bag.

As if she didn’t know that she would need her oyster card.

It’s not like she had planned on getting the tube or anything.

The tube.

You hear it pull into the platform.

Your ears prick up like a rabbit caught in headlines.

The incessant tapping of your Armani shoes gets faster.

You push past. The hare overtaking the tortoise.

Though this hare doesn’t take naps.

No time for that.

But you’ve missed it.

By seconds.

By the skin of your nose.

F*?! that ridiculous woman.

Or forget her, what about that spotty faced teenager who got your drink wrong in Starbucks.

The same drink that you have ordered at 7:15 every morning since he started working there.

Stupid idiot. Scratching is dandruff flaked hair whilst asking if you want any cakes or pastries with your coffee.

If you’d have wanted a cake you would have bloody well said so.

Before you have time to check the gold plated face of your watch, the train has arrived.

You spot her immediately.

The woman with the pushchair edging closer and closer to the doors.

But you’re not having any of that.

She can wait her turn.

There’s no room for Mr. Nice Guy when Hong Kong is waiting for a conference call on line one.

Goddamn it! If this train was going any slower it would be going backwards.

“Come On” you urge silently.

The Blackberry comes out of the pocket in one swift move.

No signal.

Emergency calls only.

Bloody underground signal.

Bloody phone.

Bloody useless piece of shit.

Won’t be like this next year- the Chinese are paying for the underground networks to be revamped.

Definitely something wrong with that.

Don’t trust them at all.

“This train is being held here in order to regulate the service”

What the hell?!

You don’t have time for this.

Don’t these people have places to go, people to see.

You’ll walk.

But there’s a sea of tourists cluttering up the station.

Rows and rows of families, all of them waving around their train tickets.

An array of digital cameras and brightly coloured bumbags.

Fanny packs, that’s what they call them over the pond.

Why would anyone come up with such a name?

Why would anyone wear a bumbag?

The only person that you’ve seen wearing a bumbag is your Polish cleaning lady who says Dzien Dobry when she sees you leave for work in the morning.

You left 17minutes ago.

The train doors shut.

It’s pulling away.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

The next one isn’t for another two minutes.

It’s ironic really, you didn’t have a minute to spare earlier.

Any now you've got two.