Thursday, 29 March 2012

We talk

Found this little gem on Today's Metro newspaper. There is something about the East End and cockney slang that I find incredibly appealing. 

Please find following a list of the least-known slang phrases and I dare you to make a proper long sentence with at least 4 of them. I can tell that it is definitely more about the rhyming more than about the meaning, but it is certainly a very colourful way of expression. I really would like to encourage to those natives from said borough to make an effort and make it last. Pass it to the generations and make it spread even by the means of Twitter if necessary. It is definitely a  

Least-known Cockney rhyming slang phrases
White mice - Ice
Donkey's ears - Years
Loop de loop - Soup
Custard and Jelly - Telly
Teapot lids - Kids
Bacon and eggs - Legs
Vera Lynn - Gin
Tommy Tucker - Supper
Cain and Abel - Table
Weasel and stoat - Coat
Davy Crockett - Pocket
Bricks and mortar - Daughter
Deep fat frier - Liar
Bubble bath - Laugh
Pig's ear - Bear
Lady Godiva - Fiver
Dickie bird - word
Mother Hubbard - Cupboard
Bread and honey - Money
Daisy roots - Boots

After the cockney confusion, while trying to digest at least one of them, here comes the Modern Slang Top 20 phrases. Mainstream language, with influences of all sorts of places, and it is what it is. You HAVE to be familiar with it. It's the rule. Get educated in the modern language of you will be lost in translation forever.


And, however, I must admit that I use 80% of them. And I hate percentages, but it is disturbingly true, innit? That was awesome girl, but I just can't be bothered to do anything. OMG, leave me alone, I just want to be chilling down in the sofa.

OK OK, this trial test to stack up all the phases have been an Epic fail. I really hope you found my previous posts awesome.

Anyways, rejoice: 

Modern slang phrases
Awesome - Mild approval
Bothered - I am not interested
Wicked - Extremely cool
OMG - Oh my god. Shock.
Innit - A contraction of 'isn't it'
Jel - Jealous
Epic fail - The most pitiful form of failure known to man
Chilling - Doing nothing
Shut uuup - Would you mind being quiet
Lush - Anything pleasurable or attractive
Reem - An attractive man or woman
Totes - Totally
Sick - Paradoxically used as positive term
Obvs - Obviously
Band tidy - Attractive women
Safe - Hello, goodbye or thank you
Standard - Of course
Amazeballs - Something that delights or amazes
Buff - A fine looking individual
True dat - Without a doubt, most definitely or Indeed.

And for those who are skeptical, here a real pictures of a cash point, somewhere in Hackney, allowing money withdrawals for those brave and cold blooded enough to press the correct button.

Remember. Be brave.




Here we are. Sunsets in London.

End of winter time is always a win for capturing the greatest coloured skies of the city. Because if there is something good about the bad weather, is that the slightest ray of light just feels amazing and makes you want to enjoy it like there is no tomorrow. 

I had to show them in colour. There is no chance I could black-and-white them.

 Big Ben

 St Pancras

More Big Ben.

Tower Bridge

And more

Houses of Parliament

Tower of London


Wednesday, 28 March 2012


High Street Kensington

Ezra St.

29 Wardour St.

Henrietta Street

Rose St.

Turbine Hall. Tate Modern

Whitecross St.

Apple Market. Covent Garden

Old St. Thomas Church. Southwark

Brick Lane

Tuesday, 27 March 2012


Cake sale at Columbia Road

Chinese New Year 2011. Trafalgar Square

About to sing. Columbia Road

Actually singing. Brick Lane

 Free photographs. Columbia Road

American hero. Southwark

Heroine. Southwark
Folkish. Columbia Road

Cold Sunday Up Market

Monday, 26 March 2012

Purchase Requisition

Think about it. I could be making up the numbers or the statistics, but I won't. According to Wikipedia, glorious source of uncontrolled information, and probably the most unreliable source (but the easiest and most satisfying), Waterloo Station had a flow of entries and exits of around 86.5 millions of people in 2009-2010. Divided into the days of the year and considering it is not accurate at all, we could say that 236.000 persons enter and exit the station every day, and maybe just 150.000 on peak time.

Now let's think about the other big hubs of the city: Victoria, Euston, King's Cross, Liverpool Street, London Bridge, Baker Street, Paddington, (hey, I am almost naming them all !!), unforgettably gigantic Clapham Junction. I am probably not considering a lot more, but let's just get this 9 for the sake of the argument. 9 times 150.000. That makes it approximately 1.35 million interchanging, exiting or entering one of the main hubs of the City. How many viewers did the Brits have this past february on TV? Around 6.2 millions, and that is Nationwide.

Therefore, big train stations are undoubtedly very juicy platforms for publicity. I know, I know. My calculations are everything but reliable or feasible, but you get my point. Big station commuters are publicity targets for the launch of new products. Fast walkers, with just having in mind that we need to get into our train. Fast fast fast. Their strategies must be simple, appealing and on the move. This is when freebies appear.

- Oyster card wallets. Unfortunately, due to the high wear of the plastic covers, we will have to end up changing the ticket wallet at some point. Either we get another Oyster and Ikea or MasterCard will sponsorize it one for us every time it's broken, or we will accept one of those give-aways from company X given at 7 in the morning on the street. Excuses are extremely variable: Uniqlo is launching a new shop on Oxford Street, Santander Bank want us to get their 1-2-3 new Current account full of advantages, Specsavers will test my eyes for free with the coupon placed inside the wallet and even my ex-University treated me with one. Effective? Yes. I happen to remember all the ones had so far and must say, my favourite one was the infamous yellow one from Ikea. Daily reminder of that X product sold by company Y. 

-  Sneakers. You never eat chocolate bar, but you happen to be that time in the morning, peak time but not late for the train. Arrived sooner than expected because you hurried while having your coffee. No time for biscuit. Hungry. Lucky you, they are giving away free chocolate bars. My mind will store this information of chocolatey satisfaction and next time in the supermarket I would probably buy one if starving.

- Free coffee. We all know about the again, infamous coffee chain, known for their watery coffees, overpriced drinks and overall disapointment. They happen to have realised about their reputation later and apparently they want to treat us like persons right now, not like numbers, as their revamping campaign. Free coffee for everybody!! Human nature is weak, and although ethically none of us, allegedly set a foot on any of their franchises, for one day we give in: we say our name to the barista, we get our free coffee and we run out as fast as we can towards our platform, in case somebody known see us sinning. 'It was just that only time...'. Yeah yeah yeah, we all did it.

- Butter. Famous overpriced spread, not even real butter, trying to convince us to buy their product. One time they gave away a whole pack to prepare the dinner. Butter, pasta, onions and tomato sauce. This year, I was not THAT lucky, I had to be consent with just 50p off coupon. Well, it did work to me, specially when given right on the trip back home. Cheeky.

- Random stuff. Like placing a girl in her pyjama, pretending to be asleep on a king size bed in the middle of the station hall. I really wanted to wish she was sleeping for real. I am not sure if she took a break, but she definitely was still there when I came back from work. Even though it was quite an usual image, I really cannot recall what were they advertising. It was disturbing.

- Cereal. Again, one of those days that my breakfast was kind of unexistant. A little box of cereal make you day. Downside of it? They made me say 'I've been such a Diva today!'. It kind of was true. 

Then we could talk about the free newspaper. Well known names of the morning and the evening issue. Most of the time full of rubbish news, repeated news and so on. Every now and then a couple of fun articles about misbehaving kids and their submissive parents, cooking recipes about how to cook clotted cream or the painful Home & Property issue that achieves to make me extremely frustrated by the time I got home. 

Nevertheless, it is quite frequent to have (actually my favourite 'freebie') discount coupons for magazines. Funny to see that this happen on very weak month issue, when sales have not been as successful as expected (e.g. Lana del Rey in the cover of Vogue), hard discount is placed, allowing us to buy the mag for a mere quid. Probably those issues are just useful for cut-outs or cleaning windows after one read, but still, the strategy worked for the big fishes. Subsidised by WHSmith or Waitrose, I ended up buying their terrible issue.

Publicists, you guys are making a good job indeed.

Or I am weak.

Friday, 23 March 2012

Victory and Misery

If I could choose a tube line to stick to, I would definitely choose Victoria Line. I like the name, sounds very patriotic, like winning, Victory, but apart from the name, that apparently is also known as 'The Banana Line', is its functionality and shape itself.

Never been to Walthamstow, never planned, but Tottenham Hale takes you yo Cambridge, to Stansted Airport and to Ikea, first stop of those that have recently move to north London. Haven't been in ages, literally. Seven Sisters, never been and don't plan to either. Finsbury Park, dearest neighbourhood. Dodgy, most probably, but it is those little gems spreaded around the hood for you to find and not be bored on weekends.  Highbury & Islington, the place where I would choose to life. Quirky little posh area with a hub for the overground, main door to the East End.

Then usual Central London stops. Kings, Euston, Warren Street (Taco night!), Oxford Circus, loved (for the shops) but loathed (for the crowds). Green Park, only used to change, Victoria is your dearest friend when you are catching a flight, Pimlico my first neighbourhood (I was so naïve back then). Vauxhall bad memories, house of the impressive MI5. Stockwell, what? Brixton, new found land and house of one of my friends. Need to explore the South.

Opened back in the 60s, first fully automated line. Fast as hell, North to South, new shinny trains. Last year they retired the '67 stock with a very emotive farewell. Missed that.

Too good to be true. So fast, so reliable that just cannot cope. Already reached its capacity a couple of years ago. Still my loved one.

Then we have the usual hated ones, the pack of District, Circle, Metropolitan and last but not least Hammersmith & City. Clattering all along the line, old tracks, old stock of carriages. Wider and lighter because they are mostly 'overground', but slow, old, smelly and always disrupted. First thing a learnt from there: avoid those lines at all cost. It's a pity, as they take you to remote corners of the city, from the swankyness of Richmond to the very indian East Ham. Not the most pleasant journeys.

We also have Picadilly. I don't like it as much as Victoria, but I consider it her (oh, now I am considering Victoria a 'female' line) little big sister. Slow, as for being one of the oldest (not as old as the previous Dream Team), but quite old. North to North West or South West. From the funny but probably never visited Cockfosters to the very convenient Heathrow Airport. It calls at all central London hottest spots, Leicester, Picadilly, Covent Garden, but so many stops make the journey long and boring. An undisclosed source, in reality a friend of mine, commented that apparently it is considered the Gay Line. Still haven't found a reason or an explanation.

Overground. Lovely new refurbished carriages and extended C-facing-down-shape line that has discovered me the beauty of East London. Back when I moved in, not very long ago, visiting the cockney side involved a very tedious journey on the 653/654 of an hour long. Alternatively, it required to use the dream time line, when not disrupted, walking and engineering to reach the desired point. Now the shinny little trains can take me to the Olympic site in a blink of an eye in carriages that look pretty much as good as the ones from my hometown.

We also have Bakerloo. Hybridised name between Baker (Street) and Waterloo station, is a bland line connecting certainly odd corners of the city. Never gone further up than Marylebone, down to Elephant and Castle, its carriages are most probably from the 70s. The knackered moquette from the seats and unpleasant brown of the line colour made it always look pretty odd to me. There is one little feature that still catches my eye everyday: its moon-shaped wall lamps with very white light. Light that reflects on the glass separators between the sections of the carriage, that act like a mirror multiplying the reflection of the light. Weird vision of infinite moons inside a carriage, like putting to mirrors in front of another and you're in between. Curious effect. I like it.

Northern line, apparently widely know as misery line. It is annoying enough as it is as branched as bushy tree. Chaotic interchange at Euston where you seriously consider tossing a coin to choose the adequate platform for your destination. Must say it is my 3rd most reliable option in case of disruption of my daily commute, but just had to use it once. Trains are a sad stock from the 90s probably. Horrible frequency between trains makes you really think about the misery of using the line. The exchange between Victoria and Misery at King's Cross can give you nightmares of infinite walking along the corridors and feeling of despair in between. I learnt better ways to reach Angel without using it.

Then we have Central. My hero one when I moved in here as it took me to my favourite spots of the city, and its horizonal layout makes it easy, pleasant to the eye and kind of comforting. From Notting Hill Gate to Bank, stopping at Marble Arch, Oxford and Tottenham Court Road. It is a shame that its carriages, similar stock to Northern, are gloomy little cans, kind of sad to travel in. Highly disrupted lately, has lost points on my list of favourite ones. Long time ago.

Jubilee Line. Grey. Disturbing. Disrupted. Eternal fail. One of the newest line. Suicide-proof in some of the stations, has a weird path across the city, from North to Southbank and then to the East. Feels cold. Its newly refurbished stations have been reinforced with metal panels. Looks modern, clean and solid, you can tell it was done for functional reasons. Speedy hubs for City workers. Waterloo, Canary Wharf, Stratford, London Bridge. Just by mentioning the name you picture Suits, coffee in hand, full suitcases and no time for social mercy until they have reached their destination. Big and important line, unexplicably faulty 24/7.

Waterloo & City. Pendular line consisting on just Point A and Point B. Purely functionalised to convey the flow of City Commuters coming from commuter towns around the South West of London. Characterised by its sweet and innocent pastel green, its probably one of the greatest unknowns for ordinary commoners from London. Often closed on the weekends, is one of those lines that none of your friends have ever used. You know it is there, but there is never a reason good enough to trial test it. There is no need for it though. Why would you like to suffer the pain of the most overcrowded station, Bank-Monument just for the sake of your curiosity?


That's what I will be doing my next day off.

But again, that's another story. 
Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Thursday, 22 March 2012


Subject A. Mature male. Aviator-like frame spectacles. Always short-sleeve shirt. Rain or sun. Funny ties. Thermal coffee jug and a tangerine. Sitting on the same table seat, even before it is announced that THAT train goes to our destination. Laptop on. Mouse cable strategically hanging on the screen. Carries a bunch of past issues of Metro.

Subject B. Chunkier male. Younger than B. Casual attire. Apple geek, geared with iPhone and iPad. Always watching a show. Knows subject A. Small talk.

Subject C. Woman. Mid 30. Formal wear. Tends to arrive almost at departure time, so never gets to choose a seat. Brushes her hair with a hairbrush, no matter who's sitting by her side. It's alright.

Subject D. Early 40 I reckon. McD breakfast guy. Full on every morning. I like his headphones. The cord looks like a rasta shoelace. Semiformal wear but quite hipster-ish on Casual Friday. No social interaction with fellow passengers.

Subject E. Male. Post mid-30s. Always wearing impecable suit. Carefully ironed shirts. Always wearing waistcoat. Nice formal coat. Carefully finished with stripped liner. Carries a knackered leather suitcase. Falls asleep like a baby as soon as he finishes his Muller yogurt. Knows Subject A, but probably because of the commuting.

Subject F. Proper english lady. I would say late 50s early 60s. Tiny glasses and granny-like shoes. Long wollen purple coat and 20s style hat. Tends to sit by my side as I normally seat quite next to the door. She hates me. I make her stand up before we have arrived at our destination. But it's not a surprise anymore. I'm on a rush to go out the first one or I don't make it to the bus. Not my fault.

Subject G. Late 30s male. Quiet, very quiet. Suited up. No social interaction. Sits down in a very straight position without resting his back on the seat. No book, no music, no paper. Also in a rush to be the first one to exit.

Subject H. Catering guy. Mid/late 50s. Nice chap. Quite enthusiastic announcing the treats of the day: 'Hot chocolate, coffee, tea, porridge, croissants, chocolate bars...'. Told me once off for pressing the lock of the doors. Even the guys from National Rail do it. 'No, that's illegal'. Never mind. No hard feelings. Haven't seen him in a couple of weeks.

Subject I. Would say late 20s. Stuck in heavy metal look. Long pony tail with plaid cap. Rolled up sleeves. Never coat. Chunky platform heavy-metal boots. Awfully long nails. He must probably plays guitar then. Carries a Nintendo DS.

And then random people.

Subject R (of revenge). Chinese girl. Probably mid 20s. I was peacefully sleeping by the window. Train was half full, so I considered putting my belongings one the seat next to mine. It's something that I never do, but due to the occupation I thought I wouldn't be a problem. Deep sleep and music own, found myself woken up with the noise of my cuttlery being drop on the floor. My banana hit my foot and my apple started to roll around the carpet. When I managed to open my eyes, I discovered this lady carelessly holding my lunch bag by a corner, putting it between the seats violently and placing her buttocks on top of my little bag of crisps stored in my bad. Said action, followed by my astonishment and the inevitable drop of my headphones, amplified the horrendous noise of crisps cracking painfully under the load, being reduced to crumbles.

Miliseconds of skepticism to which I could only react with a probably quite rude (but well deserved) 'Hey hey hey, STOP!!!'. Evil, avenging Banana surfaced from deep down inside of me. Full of anger. My needed precious little nap and my carefully calculated midday snack had just been spoiled. The fact that this occurred without a gentle interruption of my sleep with a polite 'excuse, would you mind...' Is what really infuriated me. What happened to the fellow commuter code of respect.

It is widely accepted to be rude on the tube, but not on a train. Atrocious!

I paid it back with an earlier-than-normal stand-up-and-head-to-the-door in the middle of HER sleep.

People, innit?

Normal routine

The task of highly engineering your journey starts the moment you wake up. These mathematical actions of the rutine get perfectioned during the course of time and cannot be developed from day one.

As everybody knows, engineering requires the domain of different arts, combination of multiple skills and the hability to put them together for a good use.

The night before, while preparing your tea or right afterwards (remember not to let yourself relax of the pumped up stated of mind after surviving the evening rush hour), you should prepare your next day meal, bits and pieces for snack and breakfast included taking on account that you, must probably, will have to eat said meal without the aid of a microwaves and while seating in front of the computer. Not too juicy. Not too smelly. Not too messy. Options are reduced to a third.

Before going to bed, you careful select the outfit of the day, checking the very unreliable weather prediction and selecting the appropriate footwear for it. You prepare you lunchbag, your normal bag, and you set two alarms at the needed time in the morning. One alarm is never enough.

Forgot to say that it is essential to play as a team at home. I find essential to organise turns of coffee-maker hobbing, so that the first housemate that comes out of the shower, is the one in charge of laying a row of cups, put a spoonful of sugar and brewing that Illy coffee while the rest come downstairs. The caffetiere has been carefully filled with water and ground coffee the night before, just in case I forgot to mention it.

As the alarm goes of, the job is quite straight forward. Shower, teeth, makeup, clothes, coffee (and a biscuit if there is time) and off to the tube.

The pace of walking has already been determined by previous trial-and-error experiments. After a while, it is natural. No time for double checks. You've left your phone. Shame.

You know you're late because your 6:45 alert of 'No Disruptionson your line' from National Rail on your phone indicates that you should be halfway drinking your coffee. Passing by the blonde lady neighbourgh at X part of the street indicates the exact minute. If you find her next to your door, you're late.

Approaching the tube station, the Oyster card should be already in your hands. No time from Armageddon speeches from the Pentecostal church down the road. Develop the skillfull task of picking up one, I mean ONE issue of Metro newspaper without deacceleating the pace along the corridor. Same action while touching in the Oyster. Turn to the left to the right corridor of your usual southbound while, with the corner of you eye you check that any of your possible paths to point B is not disrupted.

Train is approaching while walking down the stairs but you know that it strategically waits a few more seconds to be filled with commuters of the line in front, to cope with the flow of passengers. You should arrive to your carriage keeping your cool, not panting. Change at your designated station. Always arrives with a couple of minutes of cushion. Time for placing yourself on the desired tile, next to the forth yellow spot on the platform. Strategic door to come right in front of the best exit to the final stop.

While climbing up the scalator, phone, Oyster and train tickets should be already in hand. Touch out. Oyster to the bag. Congratulate yourself. You made it in one piece to the big station. Put a smile on your face while you walk to your usual platform number X. Happiness disturb fellow commuters.

If lucky, you will get a freebie that day. Cereals, Oyster wallet, organic moisturiser, voucher for 50p off of Lurpak...

I'm hungry now.

Get your freebie without loosing your tickets. Tickets that have been strategically collected the day before as you arrived from work. Placed on the plastic wallet in order of usage. Outward trip. Plusbus. Return. Receipt. Visa.

Get in. Sit down. Think.

You've realised you've developed very strong OCDs.

Welcome to my life


See, two years ago things were way different for me. Different place, different cities. I was always driving from A to B. I knew a lot about my origin or destination points but little about the trip. My only chance of exploring point B appeared everytime I had difficulties to park at my destination. It's in those occasions when you get to know a new road, a new shop, or even a new area if you get really lost. I was good with orientation, but was knowledge was pretty much road and motorway engineering. Trips were normally short. I had time to sing out loud on my car. My car it was everything.

I don't get the chance to sing now. I could, but the unwritten law of respect for fellow passengers is something that I strictly try to comply with. My shoes get abnormally worn out these days. I keep finding myself going shopping for shoes, as a need. Walking is my main task of the day. Necessity or pleasure.

Walk or sit down for long. Standing besides the doors of the carriage. A lot of empty time that now I need to cover with a productive solution. The solution was quite straightforward. Empty time = time to think. Time to observe. Time to evaluate. And eventhough I have just classified this time as empty, it is precious, and essential, and I really value to have it back with me a couple of hours during the day.

Empty time leads you to observation. I have always been quite nosy, just for pure curiosity. And it is sitting down observing on a train when you realise how equal we are all of us. London Underground specially, I think is one of the most democratic place of all. I am not sure if democratic is the correct word, but will leave it on the mean time. This tube is where at 6 in the morning, workers, commoners like me, hipsters, early-bird tourists and high-end bankers or managers of the City get canned on a crowded Victoria Line carriage.

You find yourself sitting down on those moquete seats that I absolute hate. We all hate them. But expensive crisp suits and grotty paint-splashed trackies sit side by side without making a conversation. They probably both read Metro. They both probably have an iPhone. One lives in Highbury and the other in Wood Green.

You get the same situation on trains. Me sitting down in front of two big-fishes from a high-end pharmaceutical or law firm, closing a multimillion deal while I tweet on my 20 pounds a month contract Blackberry.

But the part I love the most about suits is observing how the tenderly fall asleep with the gentle movement of the train. They close their eyes and their heads slowly fall down in an awkward position, that after waking up will give them neck pain for the rest of the day. Then they start to dribble. Like I do. I love it. Even the most scaring suited up big boss dribbles. Defenceless. Powerless for 20 minutes.

I observe it. I read my Metro and I look at then half smilling. They are like me. I open my yogurt.

So do them.

But that's another story.

Wednesday, 21 March 2012


London is certainly a big city. Its transport network expands towards the most remote place on the outskirts, yet it has to carry the equivalent of its extension in number of passenger.

There is no day that we have the daily reminder of how overcrowded the system already is, and how close it is to the edge of absolute chaos and destruction. Destruction.

Underground system in which some of the stations, the clients, the commuters, have to be managed to literally flow along the corridors just like a fluid would do in a pipe. Narrow victorian tunnels added to the small platforms do not allow the current volume of traffic at certain hours of the day, which by the way, those hours are dangerously increasing being almost all day long. Cages are closed, flow is diverted so that the way to the platform takes longer to walk. Pipes again. Straight away, it comes to my mind the famous Bernoully´s Principle. Laminar and turbulent flow. Flow should be laminar on the tube.

But it is one little disruption, a slight change of plan, and the domino effect starts. Starts every morning, and its where gamblers should really bet on: which line is going to be disrupted today?

It is therefore, of paramount importance, that the usual London commuter may be able to engineer, without a hint of doubt (although the use of gadgets is allowed), at least 3 different routes to reach their destination. Only long-months-breeded species can appreciate the fact that not only just one line will fail in the morning. Chances are, there is always at least 2 lines with ´Severe Delays´.

And here is the tricky part: A Londoner´s commuting time tends to be extensive, not because of the distance to cover, but for the planned Cushion time prepared for the case of a contingency.

Turns out that after careful engineering, said fellow commuters end up arriving probably at least 20 minutes early on daily basis. But the inability to dispose them at any occasion may result in total disaster. Destruction. Again.

And its funny that some of us, probably most of us, end up choosing our preferred location to live in accordance to our commuting needs, rather than because we like the area. Decisions like this are ruled by the number of Underground Lines and 24 four hours buses stopping at your front door.

Because in this case, more is more. More is better.

I need to move out.

No reason

Here I am sitting in my usual train. My seat has been ‘stolen’ by a non-frequent commuter of my daily train. Seats are silently chosen and respected by fellow commuters by the unwritten law of miserability. 

There is something comforting about the fact that you end up seating every morning on the same seat rain or not rain. It is just a seat, it is just a carriage, and the journey will take the same time. But after all this time, that actually for me hasn’t been so long, it becomes somehow as your secondary house for a long half an hour.

Actually, last night I saw an episode of my beloved tube-related TV, highly patronising in favour of the underground staff, where a gentleman decided to put all his geeky-ness to work and started registering the optimum position on the tube carriage to arrive at the correct door to shorten commuting time at each and every single station from the underground network. Obviously, such a big effort idea needed to be put to good use, and decided to create an iPhone app for the whole London to embrace his OCDs. In my opinion, a brilliant idea, although I would never go that far.

For a number of reasons, extensive commuting time is not something that I had experience before living in this city. Very lucky probably, but I would say, an correct me if I am wrong, it is quite particular for this city, probably due to the enormous number of inhabitants and extension, that workers spend vast amounts of time commuting to work.I put myself as an example. I happened to be hired in a job that I really enjoy, with a wonderful team that takes a lot of care of me. Downside, it is almost 70 kms away from my current residency. For where I come from, covering this distance daily is considered quite rare, and most people would think I am absolutely bonkers. The solution for this two-hours commuting time each way would be easily be shortened by moving close to work, reducing expenses greatly, giving me a lot more time to sleep, the air would be ten times cleaner and my house, not just my room, would be ten times bigger.

But I keep telling to every person that I meet for the first time. I have a non-rational love for London. I cannot really explain what has provided me with this obsession, and most probably is my so-called adaptability to ‘hostile’ situations, but I need to stay here.That’s why I keep commuting for two hours each way.

That’s why I need my beloved seat.Although not today. Today I decided to seat in a table seat.

It’s actually more comfortable.You have to be more adventurous every now and then. Don’t you?