When glaring at young man who did not give up his seat for you but did for the pretty young woman who got on a stop later. After a mental diatribe about the fickle priorities of the opposite sex, I looked down and saw that said pretty young woman was pregnant (usefully indicated by “baby on board” Underground badge) in case you didn’t notice the small neat bump. Definitely not sixth months I thought to myself, but hit rush hour trains are no fun with or without a bun in the oven.
Anyway I revised my opinion of well brought up young man. And then spent the next section of the journey staring pointedly at young woman who had nothing on board or in the oven, hoping her fidgeting around indicated imminent getting up and off the train. She did get up and offered me her seat and then stood for the next couple of stops until the hoards thinned. I thanked her profusely and gave her a nudge when a nearby seat was free. What a well brought up young woman.
In my defence I had walked the length of Portland Place with my gammy knee after wandering around several shops trying to find a floppy washbag that my sister wanted. I was clearly well down misinformed chuntering road as I had already complained at the Joe the Juice counter about a misunderstanding of the cost of some expensive but deeply healthy sludge (quite tasty, and I didn’t buy a bun!).
Anyway, London prices still have the capacity to shock me, which makes me feel like a hick despite spending my formative years here. Likewise I am also feeling old as I now need someone to give up their seat for me. And I am not wearing purple.
Time to find chocolate in the cupboard…
Minnie’s Musings 
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