An old woman with a large leather handbag staggered onto the Jubilee line at Willesden Green and sat down opposite me. Instantly she clocked the newspaper behind me.
“Could you… please…?” she mumbled softly with a smile, holding out her hand and motioning to the unread paper.
“Of course,” I replied, handing it to her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, barely uttering the ‘you’ before her expression immediately changed entirely to one of bewilderment as she unfolded it, revealing not London Lite or the Metro, but City AM. Apparently a little embarrassed at having asked for financial and business news which she clearly had no interest in reading, Granny Bathos then realised she had little choice but to read the cover article. Well, I say read. It was more like her eyes just trickled randomly over its letters, failing to arrange them into anything more appealing before settling with a resigned frown upon Peter Mandelson’s nose. I took a few steps down the carriage and retrieved a thicker fold of newspaper, lifting back the cover to reveal the Metro and held it out to her. Her eyes lit up.
“Oh yes,” she smiled, “thank you,” and promptly opened her bag and slid the newspaper inside without a glimpse before closing it again. She then sat back in her seat, smiling broadly as she clasped her large handbag, eminently very pleased with herself for pocketing a free newspaper. I don’t know what possessed me to, but as she caught me staring at her, I nodded at another newspaper further down the carriage, raising my eyebrows in silent offer to retrieve that too. She just smiled, shook her head gratefully, and patted her bag. Her work here was done.
She got off at Baker Street.
This sort of thing is why I love public transit. These brief moments of interaction spark my imagination in ways that I just can’t get elsewhere.
Your last line made this piece for me!
God bless you. The patron saint of little old ladies. You’ll be crossing them over the road next…
I had to read the article twice.
The first time through, I got as far as the two words at the end of the first line, and for the remainder of my read, my head was full of nothing but the proud and exuberant way the tube announcing lady says them.
Thats so sweet, in a totally random way. Perhaps this is the modern equivalent of helping old ladies across the road, what with the whole “pedestrian crossing” thing making that job obsolete now.
And somewhere, she’s out there still – pocketing forksticks from kebab takeaways or pumping soap straight into her bag from public toilet dispensers. Old ladies will pillage and swipe anything that isn’t bolted down.
Auw, bless. I have a soft spot for lovely old ladies ……
After midnight here and I should be sleeping, but that’s just made me smile out loud. Thank you.
yea nice Work :D