Friday, February 29, 2008

Ships that pass in the night*

Just as the tube doors close at Oxford Circus, a gangling figure crashes through them and swerves past my cello straight into the last untaken seat, it's Bobby Gillespie. I wonder if anyone else recognises him? I resist the temptation to ask him "Are you Bobby Gillespie?". Because that would make me a wanker. Although somewhere in the back of my mind a scenario presents itself that he'll be getting of at my stop, we'll start chatting and the epic collaboration between us will be born. He gets off at Notting Hill Gate. Probably just as well.


*I say night. Obviously it was the morning. But it was underground, where it may as well be night.

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