London has been kind of hard recently. Having just returned from a holiday in Mañanaland, the grind of the daily commute has really been getting to me. Every now and again though, something happens here that reminds me why I live in this manic city and makes me fall in love with her all over again.
I was on the tube this morning on my way into work, listening to my music and tapping my right foot to the wonderful beats of ‘Q and not U’. I looked over my left shoulder and saw an artist working away at her sketch book.
“How cool is that?” I thought to myself. “A moment of inspiration and off she goes. Only in London”
Being a nosey sod I thought I’d take a sneaky peek. She was an artist, after all, and I could be the first to witness this potential masterpiece in progress.
The cheeky bitch was furiously recreating the shape of a miserable loner, semi-dangling from the overhead handrail, wearing a blank expression and scruffy hair, listening to music. Me!
Naturally, I was disgusted at such an openly public invasion of my privacy.
“How dare she; the wonderfully talented cow?”
So I held the pose for a few more stops and gave her a ‘tut’ as I left the train. It’s not often that people ask me to model for them.