The Peevish Passenger

How do you tell the man sat next to you on the train that if he keeps scratching his beard you will slap his hand? Yes he has stubble; so what. There is no need to advertise it. He should see my legs now that’s stubble.

The woman with her nails tip tappy on the keyboard. Tell her clickety clack went out with the typewriter. We have moved on and it is natural nails now not fake.

That person over there making one call after another on their phone. Tell them the train has not become their office and ask them why they are talking in such a sing-song annoying voice.

The sniffer, there is always a sniffer. It is bad enough that they sniff. Sniffing without rhythm is the worst case of all. Do you lean over and say “Would like a tissue for that nose?”

And the twitcher. I blame that bloke from Red Bull for the twitching. It is now fine for a man to sit with one or both legs twitching away, jiggling up and down. I want to shout “Stop Jiffling”*

There is no wonder we all sit ears plugged in, desperate to block out the kerfuffle created around us.

The best bit of course is that I am a perfect travelling companion, causing no inconvenience to my fellow passengers. I scribble silently without sniffing, scratching or loud sighing. Occasionally I shuffle in my seat and so far, (like today for example) I have managed to shout inside my head (not out loud) “Look deer, deer, deer 15 of them”

* jiffle, Verb. To fidget, to be restless.

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1 Response to The Peevish Passenger

  1. Philip says:

    More reasons to cycle to work. My own little world and no other people. Do you think I can pull off ‘team player’ after the tower. Tricky.

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