The Bedtime Express

It's Friday and I've just left work for the week. I'm catching the District Line east at Tower Hill, and it's busy as usual. Standing room only, 9 times out of 10 anyway. I step in my usual door. It's the one that puts me closest to the steps down to the platform I need when I disembark this train two stops later to change to another line.

I stand in the doorway towards the front of my carriage and I survey the crowd, looking for anything of interest to occupy my mind, perhaps even someone to flirtatiously make eye contact with. As is my way.

Of the four seats taken on one side, three are occupied by a woman in her 30's with a very severe haircut and angular face, and either side of her a small child; a boy of about 5 and a girl of 6 or 7. All other seats are taken by the usual commuter crowd. Mrs Severity has a book in her lap and is reading aloud to her children, in a clear, almost musical voice. It's a tale of high seas and pirates, but I can't see the cover to find out exactly what book it is. Both children appear absorbed with other things though, and don't seem to be paying alot of attention.

I notice the man next to the family is asleep. I look across to the people sitting opposite the family. A middle-aged businessman appears completely wrapped up in the story. He's obviously paying attention, but he keeps closing his eyes and then blinking them open again. He's having to make a conscious effort to stay awake. The other three passengers are asleep. Mrs Severity has managed to lull the entire end of the carriage to sleep, except for her actual children.

I close my eyes and lean back on a handrail, listening to the story. I nearly miss my stop. We adults don't have enough stories read to us.