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More Transit Mirth
Wednesday, August 29th, 2007 12:22 pmAs luck would have it, my first post of today is about people on the tube again, so ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
htrouser should be happy.
I always know when I am a little late for work because Creepy Swedish Guy is on the train. Creepy Swedish Guy lives somewhere around the Totteridge and Whetstone area, the same as me. Whether it is in Totteridge (turn right on exiting the station) or Whetstone (turn left on exiting the station), I couldn’t tell you. I have seen him at the station, I have seen him exit, but I have never noticed the direction he goes and I have never seen him actually on the street.
Where I see him on the system depends upon the caprice of the Northern Line. Today, my Bank Branch train transmogrified (as it does) into a Charing Cross Branch train and I ended up walking around the various tunnels at Euston to get onto the Victoria Line southbound. And there he was. Clearly while I was wandering around, a Bank Branch train had come in and deposited him for the short walk from that line to the Victoria Line (he appears to work in south London, probably Brixton).
He always wears the same business suit and carries a bag that was clearly supplied by the ladies’ wear department of somewhere like Selfidges, when someone of his acquaintance (a Ladee, one hopes) bought a skirt or blouse or some such. He also carries around the biggest and heaviest hardback book I have seen on the underground (not always the same book, but always big and heavy) and it is always Swedish.
Creepy Swedish Guy always looks disapproving and balefully at everyone in the carriage (and it seems that he has particular bale for me, though I acknowledge that this is probably simple paranoia) and sits at the back of the last carriage. Once settled and troll-like he reads his book stony faced and unmoving, only to break into unnerving and unexplained smiles from time to time. Frankly, he puts the wind up me.
And I’ve just worked out where he lives and why I’ve never seen him on the street at Totteridge and Whetstone. Like all good trolls, he doubles back and dips under the bridge to stay out of the direct sunlight. That is where he lives.
I wonder who delivers his books?
htrouser should be happy.I always know when I am a little late for work because Creepy Swedish Guy is on the train. Creepy Swedish Guy lives somewhere around the Totteridge and Whetstone area, the same as me. Whether it is in Totteridge (turn right on exiting the station) or Whetstone (turn left on exiting the station), I couldn’t tell you. I have seen him at the station, I have seen him exit, but I have never noticed the direction he goes and I have never seen him actually on the street.
Where I see him on the system depends upon the caprice of the Northern Line. Today, my Bank Branch train transmogrified (as it does) into a Charing Cross Branch train and I ended up walking around the various tunnels at Euston to get onto the Victoria Line southbound. And there he was. Clearly while I was wandering around, a Bank Branch train had come in and deposited him for the short walk from that line to the Victoria Line (he appears to work in south London, probably Brixton).
He always wears the same business suit and carries a bag that was clearly supplied by the ladies’ wear department of somewhere like Selfidges, when someone of his acquaintance (a Ladee, one hopes) bought a skirt or blouse or some such. He also carries around the biggest and heaviest hardback book I have seen on the underground (not always the same book, but always big and heavy) and it is always Swedish.
Creepy Swedish Guy always looks disapproving and balefully at everyone in the carriage (and it seems that he has particular bale for me, though I acknowledge that this is probably simple paranoia) and sits at the back of the last carriage. Once settled and troll-like he reads his book stony faced and unmoving, only to break into unnerving and unexplained smiles from time to time. Frankly, he puts the wind up me.
And I’ve just worked out where he lives and why I’ve never seen him on the street at Totteridge and Whetstone. Like all good trolls, he doubles back and dips under the bridge to stay out of the direct sunlight. That is where he lives.
I wonder who delivers his books?