Harry inhaled a deep breath through his nose, slowly counting 1 through 4 as he did so, to try quell the anger that was blackening his mood like a tropical rainstorm. Not sixty seconds had passed since he'd neatly folded his FT, tucked it under his arm and gingerly made his way to the other end of the train platform to avoid having to listen to a woman broadcasting her life to all who didn't care to listen in her proximity before she was back stood in front of him again as if they'd been drawn by a pair of invisible magnets. He turned his head and looked up to check the arrival time of the 0918, the time now already 0942. Somehow it's arrival was showing 7 minutes later than when he'd last checked 4 minutes previous to that. What could have caused an additional seven minutes delay? It's not like it's a car able to take a wrong turn, it follows a track on a straight line. The thought then crossed his mind of how long he'd have to serve for murder if he were to stand up and give her a helping hand onto the track but then realised with no train approaching his effort would be in vain anyway. He watched as she marched back and forward in front of him as if held in an invisible prison cell, now never moving beyond it's confines. Should he simply get up and move back to where he was sat before? His feet had started tapping involuntarily as if making his mind up for him or perhaps readying to kick her onto the track to ease his anger rather than in a direct attempt to murder her. Breathe Harry, keep breathing old boy, remember the Doctors advice, stress isn't good for the heart. The blonde metronome kept up its pace moving back and forth, its arm aloft with mobile phone held in front of her mouth whilst simultaneously broadcasting on loud speaker. Between her and the female voice on the other end it wasn't hard to deduce that they had the combined IQ of a pair of toddlers. Whilst Harry generally loathed children of any age dating back from when he was one himself and had ensured endless bullying throughout it, in the here and now he'd have happily swapped his new nemesis for actual toddlers or even come to think of it a screaming newborn baby, the cries of which would have cut through him much less by comparison. She's like an actor without a stage though nobody would give tuppence to watch her perform. Didn't mummy and daddy give you enough attention before you left the house this morning dear? Harry said to himself though feared he might have said it aloud as the hand of the old lady sat to his right gave his arm a little pat. Harry hated old people as much as he hated children but only because of the talk his doctor had given him in warning about his lifestyle choices and how if he didn't change them he'd never see past the age of retirement. He was somehow jealous of those who'd all made it to an age where their hands looked permanently the way that a child's did when it got out of the bath. If you want to know someone's age, especially that of a woman, always check the hands first because whilst the face may lie with enough work done, the hands most certainly won't.
Harry wondered if he should ask the old dear how she was but he was afraid that having asked the question that she might tell him the answer. All he wanted was a bit of peace and quiet to read his FT. He deliberately chose the later train into work to avoid the throngs of school children. The two sexes would split into different camps until the train came into view. The boys swarming like flies around shit and the girls like gulls flapping around a bag of discarded chips. Yet when the train pulled up all their differences were sat aside and they formed a rugby scrum that could have forced even the mighty All Blacks back down the carriage and woe betide any poor sod wishing to disembark the carriage before they got on. Harry hated to think of himself as one of those people that said it wouldn't have happened in my day. Yet the truth was it wouldn't have done because a guard would have had you by the ear and reported it to the school had such behaviour occured.
The station Tannoy crackled into life. The 918 on platform one is delayed. And therein was the sum total of the announcement. No apologies, no updates, nothing else to add. Not even a fuck you. A groan floated out onto the tracks like waves going back out to sea as if no one had actually noticed that the train was already late other than him. Harry shut his lips just in case the words he was thinking were to be said aloud this time which were - fucking idiots.
Harry arched his head back and shut his eyes tight and tried to imagine that instead of the brick wall it was resting against it was the ample chest of Cathy in accounts who was running her fingers through his hair, whilst the warmth of a tropical sun basked down on them both whilst they lay in some far off remote island. He was just getting in to it when the familiar high pitched warbling of the tracks that acted as a prelude to a trains arrival snapped him out of his fantasy daydream and he excitedly sat forward and looked right only to find the train was inbound from the left on the platform opposite where a grand total of 3 passengers were waiting to board one of 4 carriages. It transpired that of all the accumulative things that had annoyed Harry that morning, the one that really pissed on his chips was that the train on platform 2 was that it was 3 minutes early.
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