Then The Harp Strings Started Breaking
The Metro reports on a survey to determine which tube line has the most attractive commuters. The Northern Line clinches it, with the Hammersmith & City line losing (the very line I take into work).
More than a third of people thought its combination of ’spiky-haired indie kids’ and ‘hot city types’ gave it the edge over other lines.
I wish I could have read that article this morning, then I could have given you a rundown on the attractiveness or otherwise of my fellow passengers. You see I rarely notice them usually occupying myself with music, books or just staring into space. I don’t do things like reading the Metro, with it’s curious blend of fluff, moral indignation and articles-that-don’t-match-the-headline-in-any-way. Although that has entertaining letters. By which I mean entertainingly stupid.
In fact one of the most horrifying things is if I travel without either book or music. Because everyone is very quiet the only sound is the little tinny beats from people’s earphones and if two people who know each other have a conversation it sounds very loud indeed, although not quite loud enough to promote tutting.
The other day a busker got on and provoked a considerable amount of embarrassment amongst my passengers with his flute. Since I was reading a book and listening to music I was able to totally ignore him. Hooray!
It’s so totally unlike taking the tube late a night, with lairy people galore, and people occasionally using cups as a makeshift toilet, you know that kind of thing.
When I lived in Twickenham, the late night trains were more civilised, or maybe I was just drunker because I regularly used to fall asleep and wake up at Hatton Cross, or even worse, Staines. Although once a group of people I was sitting near who worked for the FT got very excited when they discovered that one of our fellow passengers had won an award for the best restaurant in Staines, a privilege I can only dream of.
I once had the experience of a last train to Shoeburyness. That was interesting.
In either occasion sex is the last thing on my mind.
This bit of the article amused me, though:
For those who did pluck up the courage, among the worst chat-up lines was ‘I bet you’re getting off at Angel’, the survey by Qype found.
(via Going Underground)
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Best scrub out the “I bet you’re getting off at Angel” line from my ‘when travelling on tube in London’ list of chat up lines then. I thought that was a banker too.
I used to travel on the Northern Line from Colliers Wood. All I remember is black bogies and yuppies getting on at Clapham.
It is interesting taking the Central Line from East to West.
East – virtually in darkest Essex – West – Notting Hill Trustafarians (til it starts heading out to Acton and all the other no-mans-lands at the western end.) It gets posher and posher as you go along. The mayor should advertise it to tourists as a mobile illustration of the British class system.
nobody chatted me up on the tube at the weekend, despite me casually strolling into the station at Acton with my skirt tucked into my knickers.
I felt a tad peculiar last week when on two separate occasions in the week and in different parts of the train the same man sat next to me eating a large cheese pretzel really slowly. I recognised him by the pretzel. District Line Richmond to Embankment. A bit weird.
I once fell into a drunken stupor on a late Brighton train, but just before my stop I belched so loud I woke myself up.
My memories of the Northern line seem to focus on preachy Jesus freaks and people with colourful mental health issues, like the man who used to interrupt his own atonal whistling of Cole Porter tunes with a bellowed “Tell me, is this the England of St George?” I’ve never had the faintest urge to have sexual intercourse with any of them.
James – I don’t know, I’d be impressed if I heard someone say it. In the most awful way imaginable though.
Geoff – I hardly ever go on the Northern Line. You see the most tube mice there I think.
Annie – Hey, I live west of Notting Hill! You do have an interesting point. The longest journey I’ve done on the Central was Stratford to White City and it was interesting.
Rosie – Ah but it’s different at the weekends. Probably.
RoMo – Obviously that man likes his pretzels too much.
Tim – I haven’t seen a Jesus freak on the tube in ages. I feel almost disappointed, although I won’t when I eventually do see one.
As a one-time regular commuter on the Northern Line, I can only say ‘result’.
Back in the 80s, when I travelled regularly to Highgate, I wrote a song called Northern Line Girl. It was about a girl on the Central Line.
Mind you, the more suitable chat up line for most of the people you see on the tube is, “I bet you’re getting of at Staines.”
Off! Doh!
Someone with a pen that was advertising a medication wrote a note on the corner of his newspaper and gave it to me once just as he nipped through the doors. It said: you are gorgeous. I was 19 or 20. It was the Picadilly Line. For some reason I still have it at the bottom of a tiny wooden box.
at the bottom of a tiny wooden box? i’d have it in a frame.
Aww. (RoMo is gorgeous, I’ve met her.)
Patroclus – As a current commuter of the Hammersmith and City line, I can only say “bah”
MaxBob – If you can’t leave a mark on the world, try and leave a Staines.
RoMo/Rosie/Annie – I’m impressed with that tale. Why do things like that never happen to me?
Oi Geoff – Clapham isn’t actually just full of yuppies, yuh?
The Northern Line – so amazing it spawned a titular boy band who sang about finding love on it.
Shite for traveling on, though, obviously.
How many other lines have a boy band named after them?
*waits hopefully for Waterloo & City*