Into the office, and I unfortunately got caught in a short, sharp rain shower which meant my shoes and coat were draped unflatteringly on a radiator near my desk for most of the morning.
After work to a colleague’s house for drinks to toast another colleague who is leaving us. It was lovely to visit his house – it was decorated and furnished exactly as I’d expected, and made for a very cosy place to spend a bit of time. We then decamped to a beautiful pub not too far away and more colleagues joined us.
I then had to head back towards home. I rode the Piccadilly Line for the first time in a while and overheard two young men discussing the possible England football squad for the World Cup.
At Charing Cross I watched people walking and my brain tried to apply a filter so that I could imagine they were the subject of one of those historical videos on Youtube that has been upscaled and colourised and we all just kind of look the same a hundred years apart – only the clothes are different.
Partway through my journey home two young women joined the train and I heard one announce to her friend in a direct, serious tone, “It’s sushi time.” The packet was opened and they both enjoyed their midweek treat.
Towards the end of my journey, feeling rather tired, I fixated on the use of the word ‘aboard’ in the train’s automated announcements and dot matrix signs, welcoming everyone ‘aboard’ this service. Such an archaic construction of a word. Aboard.
Aboard. Aboard? Aboard. Welcome aboard.