King's Cross

Waiting for the Metropolitan line.

Good weekend: there was Zorro, a fun pub crawl, new tv love for Mad Men, reading about NZ's history of state housing at 4am, lunch with my cousins, a visit with my nieces, and a brief cameo at Vesbar to see Jayson Norris.

smile

This image is part of an advertising campaign (all over the tube) for a dating site called match.com. I love it! Cupid is nailing Fate's ass and he is so happy!

Snap

"Ah, here's one - hang on," I called to Ange as I ducked into a chemist at Gatwick airport. Time was running short before our boarding time, so I went directly to a lady in uniform and asked for eye drops. "Do you have Cleareyes? Eye drops for, um, allergies and that sort of thing?"

She lead me to shelves containing eye drops. I scanned them quickly, but couldn't see what I wanted. "Do you have anything for red eyes? Like, if you've got allergies and your eyes go red, and you want them to be clear?"

She gave it some thought, then walked behind the counter, producing a small box labelled Red Eye Drops. It wasn't Cleareyes, but it would do.

"Perfect," I announced, and handed over my debit card.
"Flight number?"
"Huh? Oh - I don't know."
"Where are you going?"
I paused. "... Amsterdam." Busted.

Every morning I spend at least an hour sitting on trains and buses. Towards the end of my journey, I emerge from the underground at Brixton station. This is an unexpected highlight of my morning, as time and again I mount the stairs and catch sight of the people handing out free Metro newspapers. That's when I remember - my favourite Metro man. He looks so lovely. He has long brown hair pulled into a pony tail, and he always looks happy and concerned with the wellbeing of those to whom he hands the paper each morning. I rarely catch his eye, but it makes me smile to see him there. I wonder what his story is?

As for my story, the red eye drops stayed in the box.