Bassman

On the way to Gina's this cold and frosty morning, a restless chap in an expensive-looking tartan jacket and tawny moustache leapt on to the tube and plopped next to me, shoving my arm off the armrest with his assertive elbow, which he kept there forcefully as I timidly tried to regain ground.
Ugh. I got up and sat somewhere else. I could not understand his blatant rudeness.
Later, we both got off at the same stop. He raced ahead so he wouldn't have to feel my affronted vibe.
But then of course, I understood why he'd been like that, though I did not condone it. He was so short, he barely reached my armpit.
There are better ways to make an impact than being irritating.

I was cheered by this musician at the end of Queensway, who was playing rockabilly and didn't need anyone else.
Boom-ska boom! Boom chaka boom-click!
Boom-ska boom! Boom chaka boom-click!
He sang Whole Lotta Lovin' Goin' On and did the rhythm and music between his voice and his bass. I gave him 50 pence although he deserved ten times more. When I win the lottery I will find him again and pay him properly for cheering me up!

As always, it was lovely to meet up with Gina and our chatting feels as though it is going to bear ideas-fruit very soon!