jenny is in love with a man from work

Jenny, with her bad highlights and trouser suit/trainer combo, is new to the world of business.
She pays special attention to any budget coverage in The Metro to prepare for intelligent conversion with the men at work.
Little does she know that Chris, who she is trying to impress with knowledge of politics, proposed to his girlfriend last night.
Jen wonders if she'll ever fall in love again after her ex went off with a student at the college he was working at.

richard who works in printing

Richard, the Chief Exec of a printing company, basks in the freedom this hour journey is giving him.
He's troubled. Both his daughters are at Oxford Brookes & have a penchant for Jack Wills. Printing just ain't what it used to be.
His wife, Sue, uses his failures as a husband and a man against him.
Every time the girls come home she systematically tells them (mostly fictional/exaggerated) stories about his disappointments.
All she asks for from her children is that they remind their father how lucky he his to have a wife like her

waiting room

Waiting rooms at railway stations are awkward.

Three of us in here. All waiting for the same train. Awkward.

Do we talk?

Do we roll our eyes "Pfft. Train's late again."

Four. Another one joined the party late.

I bet he does that with the train. He runs up to the open door and makes them hold the train for another minute.

He's the sort of guy that forgets Valentines day and turns up with an elaborate weekend away booked for April.

And gives you a dvd for your birthday.

Tom. Thats his name. Never could trust a Tom since the trampolining son of the Vicar who pulled up my skirt at primary school.

Primary school nostalgia further marred by the recollection of running at great speed across the playground to avoid a kiss & falling over.

And proceeding to dramatically split my lip and knee. It was 5 years before anyone tried to kiss me again.

No wonder my love life is in such a state of disrepair.

the man on the train

The breathtaking Mediterranean man who reads with his daughter has breathed life into this painfully stale train journey.

His thick black hair is flecked with grey and pushed into a hurried side parting. Olive skin.

He just caught me looking. It was like that moment in Amelie when Nino first looks up at her from the floor of the photobooth.

I want to look up again so I catch his eye. But I'm too shy.

Gosh he just looked at me again. My heart is tight like a fist.

I'm desperately in love with a man I'll never speak to.

It's that jaw. I never could resist a man with a strong jaw.

And those eyes. Like two drops of dark liquid chocolate.

He's laughing. He laughs like a king.

Crushingly, "I'm a fool to want you" just came on my iPod.

coughing man

After the crushing blow of being called 'fat' a few weeks ago by a guy, I'm very happy that a weight expert has unfollowed me.

Either the weight expert thinks I've lost weight or she thinks I'm beyond help.

Speaking German in a Scottish accent is just one of my many useful talents you didn't know about.

That and my ability to say 'Bob' in the most convincing French accent you'll ever hear.

Today I look how I did back in 2008 - I spent a lot of that year convinced I was gay and dressed accordingly.

The other day, my frien said TFF in place of Tears For Fears. I still haven't recovered.

A man just cinematically leapt onto the train with seconds to spare. He thought he was superman.

There's a man coughing rather dramatically on the train.

Everyone is looking at each other.

Do we help?

I have nothing to offer him.

It's not like he's choking to death, he's taking breaths in between. But he's doing it loudly. Inconsiderate.

People read such trash. At least I pretend to be intelligent and read classics.

Granted, my phone is resting on the page and I'm tweeting.

Shut up coughing man. I am sick of your lies and desperate ploys for attention.

Claire is sans makeup with badly home-dyed hair. Wearing tracksuit- top and bottom. She is reading a Katie Price autobiography.

She went to great lengths when selecting which snack bar to eat.

She wishes she'd gone to such lengths when choosing her partner.

Now she goes out to work to support them both while he sits at home denying he has a weed habit.

Coughing man is, unsurprisingly, coughing.

things that irritate me and john from expenses

Jeans and black shoes. They don't go. They never will.

I'm just telling you before someone important notices you've made such a disastrous sartorial decision.

Tweets about iPods on shuffle. We've all done it. But let's all agree that enough's enough.

I'm not interested in reading about the curious juxtaposition of the Spice Girls and Led Zeppelin that your iPod created.

Also, it's pronounced 'ask' not 'aks'.

Someone is sat in my usual seat on the train this morning. He is wearing a black leather coat, complete with hood.

I'm not one to intimidate the urban grim reaper with one raised eyebrow and huffing. I'll sit elsewhere.

Jewfro on board. Want to take a picture. Can't.

He's like the semitic Phil Spector.

One of the things I've found the most odd about getting the train is that people do things that would be completely unacceptable elsewhere.

Like staring.

Why are you staring at me like that, peculiar man?

And when someone tries to sit next to you but accidentally ends up on you and then doesn't apologise. Odd.

I apologise if I walk into a lampost, for goodness sake.


I admit I've been doing this for long enough to be part of the furniture but please don't treat me like an arm chair.

A man with an incredible head of hair has sat NEXT to me. John. He's like a silver fox.

Stop staring at me, strange man three seats away.

He does contract work at local authorities.

Divorced.

Young lover.

I'm looking over his shoulder at his notebook. He works in expenses. He had a meeting about the corporate gift policy.

Is it unethical that I am reading highly confidential information over his shoulder?

I fell in love with the man who works in expenses with the grey hair.

I've got a bit of a thing for handsome men who work in expenses, apparently

the tall card

I am exhausted.

Lack of enthusiasm and exclamation marks can bring you smack down to earth.

Wednesday already? Nice surprise.

Listening to Led Zeppelin on the train. Seems to be helping to distract me from the overpowering smell of terry's chocolate orange.

I've got my fringe backcombed into a sort of messy quiff today. I look like I work in a&r.

Katherine is pretending to work on her laptop. It's no secret that she's playing solitaire.

She's getting her fix in the morning en route so she doesn't get found out at work. She's a solitaire addict.

I've got a rogue hair on my face somewhere but can't locate it so am suffering with a tickly eyebrow/upper cheek. Stupid malting long hair.

I look like a right twat this morning with my stupid hair, natural makeup and tartan scarf. If only I had a classic American novel...

Oh wait.

What's this? It's my beat up copy of The Great Gatsby of course.

My friend thinks the lyrics to Rock the Casbah are 'she really don't like it' and by thinks I mean is convinced.

She also thinks Judaism is Christianity and Africa is a country. We've had many arguments about this.

I'm of Jewish stock and my dad is from Cameroon which is a COUNTRY in AFRICA.

She'd do very poorly on University Challenge. Very poorly indeed.

Standing room only on this train. Wasn't expecting such a rush.

Why do the uprisen passengers insist it is their right to read the papers of the seated masses over their shoulders?

Especially the men. Thats right Stuart I saw you casually glance at Claire's paper. Don't you dare think you got away with that.

I accidentally kicked a lady as I got off the train and mumbled a rushed apology. I was listening to to the doors at 11 though.

Did she understand me or did she think I was an aggressive lunatic with a speech impediment?

Tall lady tried to play the 'height card' at the ticket barrier. I'm 5'1" with a quiff, I'm first.