Well it had to happen. The road less travelled has crossed a major highway, and for a while, we follow its route. Pretty big highway by my standards, too.
4 months from our illustrious arrival, and the town of London is beginning to show its cracks. Or maybe I am beginning to crack.
'The tube', as the rail transport system is called, still mystifies me with its alternative culture and accepted norms. The man with his head in my armpit should not attempt to acknowledge me, and it is too crowded to change his position. He consequently suffers in silence. A long day at work ends with a ride home on the tube, and I sigh....and a nasal particle breaks free and attaches itself to the man's hand next to me reading his paper. He looks at it and then continues to read his paper...... I stifle a chuckle and am too embarrassed to comment- what would I say anyway? So we pretend to ignore each other and he travels with a new passenger - my mucus on his hand.
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