The Late Train

Hate them all you will - and we will - but you've got to give it to London Underground; commuters of the grey cloud city have been handed a mother of a 'late pass'. We freely tap our snooze buttons; take time to prepare our cups of tea; indulge in generous helpings of BBC Breakfast; wait for trains less congested to arrive, and even stop by stores en route for doughnuts and coffee, knowing fully well that if we are late to the office, no real explanation is required.

'Sorry I'm late boss, the trains were a nightmare.'

And they probably were, at some probable time, on one of the probable lines you probably should have been on a lot earlier.

What's so sweet about this setup is that everyone from the new recruit to the office veteran has been screwed-a-plenty by our nation's national treasure of a public transport service – God bless our Queen. The phrase, 'Sorry I'm late boss, the trains were a nightmare.' does not raise alarms of deceit, but instead rings with familiarity.

Pick a card, any card; someone was taken ill on a train, someone was found under a train, or someone has pulled a passenger alarm on a train. You mavericks of unrelenting disturbance, I say thank you on behalf of London City. For on our mornings of gross lethargy and disregard for time, your past endeavours can be recalled promptly to generate an often fabricated nightmare of a journey.

Without taking the gloss off of our heroes in blue, there are two additional saving graces for any late employee:

Firstly, it doesn’t matter how late you arrive at work, as long as a departmental colleague arrives later. If you do happen notice a few absent colleagues, don’t be too hasty to pull your ‘Train Card’ (these lose value with excessive use). Instead, take your seat as if you’re 10 minutes early. You might as well be. The only person who’s actually late is the last to arrive in the office. In fact, even if you arrive 5 minutes early you’re still late if you’re the last to arrive. It’s office law.

The second is more of a desperate manoeuvre than a grace. You’re late, and you know it, but it’s Thursday and you’ve already used two ‘Train Cards’ this week. Unless your travel route makes the news – you’re now desperately praying for a crash or power outage – you’re screwed, and all recent displays of tardiness will be brought to the table. There’s only one thing for it, Krispy Kremes . . . for everyone!

More often than not this could all be avoided by resisting the urge to hit that all too easy snooze button. That snooze button which only serves the purpose of multiplying the number of times you’re angrily woken up in the morning.

But in reality, who really wants to be early for work anyway? The cleaning lady and the milkman, that’s who.

A to the . . .

Rush Hour(s)

Just when you thought that no one else could possible fit in the train, ten more people push and squeeze in.

When the train pulls into another station (one stop closer to work) you see a crowd of people, and you’ll question how many of them will get onto the train . . . then answer is ALL OF THEM. Apart from the ‘particulars’ everyone has places go . . . or places they should already be.

The bright side is knowing that eventually your stop will come. If you’re quick and strong enough, you’ll be able to get off the train before the doors close and move on.

Is it really that bad?

. . . Most days, yes.

Does it bother me?

. . . Most days, no.

A to the . . .

The Fake Summer Of 2007 . . . Part Two

The weather is picking up (not today though) slightly and I’m gripping ever so tightly on hope. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to cruise Oxford Street this summer with no intention whatsoever to shop. It really isn’t much of a summer without the sun.

Girls don’t look the same. Their faces exhibit a scowl that says ‘Don’t even think about it.’ They’re all covered up also . . . I don’t mean to sound like a perve, but isn’t that one of the perks of summer? Rear ending drivers because you’re not watching the road; jumping off a bus at random stops to chase a girl down the street for her number; starring at breasts with you shades on while you ask of her age, and where she lives. Then calling her up that same night because you know she has five other guys trying to ‘link’ her . . . got to scrap the three day rule.

The rain is pouring as I type this. Heavy shower . . . perfect conditions for jet skiing, high diving or surfing. It’s a shame I’m into none of the above or I’d be outside now in my trunks having the time of my life . . . don’t worry about the thunder and lightening.

I’m in desperate need of a heat wave! At least one so that I can get a fresh trim, drop two-hundred press-ups, iron a fresh white t-shirt, bring the white on white trainers out the box and stroll aimlessly along the city’s central (Zinger Tower Burger in hand) looking for ways get myself in trouble.

My highlight of this summer is my trip to Texas. What a great way to kick off the summer. Crazy heat, and not a single cloud in the sky for seven days (ok, there was one rain storm). A wedding, two parties, shopping for about four days, more food than I could meet, family times and I made a bunch of buddies.

So I got off the pane at Heathrow on what would now seem like an out of place sunny day. Didn’t want to be back, but the sun came with me, ‘Let’s rock and roll.’

. . . Well you know how that story goes : (

Don’t need the sun to have fun but it helps, and provides a few more options and far less female scowls!

A to the . . .

The Fake Summer Of 2007

The poor weather has slashed the number of sickies taken by workers by nearly a fifth. Last summer, employees called in sick to bask in blazing temperatures. But during the wettest June on record, the number of sickies fell by 17 per cent and many workers even put in extra hours, said absence management company FirstCare, which carried out the research. – Metro, Friday, July 6, 2007

What kind of foolishness . . .

I was only joking when I said that this ‘summer’ would be recorded in the history books. Now tales will be handed down for generations regarding The Fake Summer Of 2007 . . . a joke at the time, but now it’s the case.

I never saw this coming; never even had a clue. I was actually running my mouth in the early stages of spring claiming that this would be the hottest summer in quite some time. I got back on my 8 min abs routine and started over doing the press-ups again. Even bought some new clothes and a hot pair of sunshades . . . I was up for it; ready to rock and roll . . . then it started raining and it hasn’t stopped since.

People are strolling around with their winter jackets on and their umbrellas at the ready. Unless you go to a nightclub it’s pretty damn hard to find scantly clad women. The lager louts are keeping their shirts on and kids are yet to burn the field behind my house. Is there any advantage to this fake summer? I can only imagine the agricultural industries benefiting from these downpours . . . and of course environmentalist who would have us believe that we are suffering because we have neglected our ecosystem.

If you don’t live in the UK then you might not think that this is a big deal . . . please believe me, this is bigger than a big deal!

In the UK we’re use to crappy summers, but we like knowing that we’ll usually get a few heat waves here and there. We like knowing that it might not always be a sunny day, but it’ll always be frustratingly hot. We love the fact that our bosses know we’re not sick but allow us the day off regardless knowing that they’ll skip a couple of days the following week.

What’s in store for us this summer? Err . . . more rain and wind. We’ve had floods and hailstones already, so snow in July isn’t that far fetched (seriously people, it’s that bad).

I’ll find something to do . . . already been getting myself into little dramas here and there. Fortunately this isn’t a ‘Dear Diary’ style blog so that’s all I’ll say about that.

Hopefully we’ll get a nice day where I can sport my killer shades and stroll aimlessly along Oxford Street checking out London’s finest ladies.

A to the . . .

Get Me Off Of This Train

Preferably before I SCREAM!!!

I just generally don’t like other people, especially when I’m tired or hungry. If I’m both then you may see a tear swelling in my eye if you look close enough. This shouldn’t be hard to see considering how closely we’re crammed into this train carriage.

What happened to personal space?

Rush hour is only tolerable when you have a seat; life looks better from that angle. It’s easier to read a book, a newspaper or whatever. You can relax you legs and crank up the volume on you mp3 player. You can wrestle for the armrests. If you’re extremely tired you can use the adjacent strangers shoulder as a pillow; you might get a troubled look but you’ll be sleeping so who cares? It’s a free world after all.

I grabbed a copy of the Metro this morning while I sleepwalked my way to work, and noticed an interesting little piece about the stress of commuting and how we deal with it. A few interesting points were made.

One . . .

Singing, humming or talking to ourselves

Huh?
I don’t know how this helps people deal with stress. At best people will discretely veer away from you, providing you with more of that precious personal space. You might even be lucky enough to score a seat . . . falsetto.

Two . . .

Planning for the day ahead or after-work activities

It’s just way too early for this . . . and if I’m on my way home, then it’s way too late also. Unless it’s a Friday and this that case I’m probably banging out text messages.

“R U Cumin 2nite?”

Three . . .

Working on a laptop, writing or reading and always make the effort to travel outside of rush-hour

Is travelling outside of rush-hour even an option for most people? I’ll drop this issue right here, but only because the Metro is a free newspaper. You won’t see this kind of crazy talk in The Guardian. Yes, everyone, stay at work till seven and then . . . oh, that’s the original problem, we’re all leaving at the same time.
OK, I really will stop now.

Four . . .

Getting angry with other commuters or admiring attractive people

I don’t know who writ this, or if their job is even secure. OK, yes it was in bullet points but I just don’t understand whether or not they are giving me permission to ‘wild out’ on public transport. I try to keep my cool when people annoy me on the train, but I might just have to reconsider if it will help me to ‘de-stress’.

I like how they have fused anger and lust together so casually. The two emotions that can fast-track your applications to jail and Hell.

Five . . .

Listening to music or audio books

Yes I must listen to my music this loud so stop looking at me like that before I exercise point four!

Six . . .

Oral gratification – from chewing gum, talking on a mobile, chatting with other commuters or eating

Yeah, I was disappointed too, thought they were going to take this in another direction.

Seven . . .

Abusing substances such as tobacco and alcohol

I was waiting for a train last week and was offered a beer (Stella Artois). I’m usually up for freebies but politely declined the generous offer; this didn’t stop him from taking to me though. I felt sorry for the guy; his wife won’t let me bring alcohol home . . . I guess she is cool with him coming home drunk though.

Eight . . .

Meditation or prayer

This requires a focused mind, especially with ladies breasts pressed against you and sweaty men’s armpits in your grill (how’s that for ambiguity?). I’m 6’2” though so it’s not an issue for me (the armpits, I’m still a man).

Nine . . .

Seeking counselling or medication to cope with stress

I’m guessing that they don’t expect you to do this during rush hour. Wouldn’t it be cool to unload your problems to someone while you travelled home though?
“Ak, this is just between you, me and all the people in this carriage”

Please . . . just get me off of this train.

A to the . . .

Provisional Ranting

Excuse me while I break away from my natural style of blogging, to a more well know approach to being heard. It would seem that most bloggers are in fact professional grumblers. I don’t know who is handing out the certificates, licences or permits so I’ll be careful as to how I protest my issues. I don’t want the officials coming after me . . . “Licence and registration please sir.”

I want to have a little whinge regarding the fluky buggers who passed their driving test first time round.

I don’t know the procedures people go through to acquire their driving licence in other countries, but here in the UK only a few things harder to achieve. On a good day you’re more likely to win the jackpot on Deal Or No Deal than to pass you’re driving test. You see, just like Deal Or No Deal passing your diving test is pretty much based on luck, and not how well you can actually drive. I was driving way before I took my test (for the first time) so what was all the fuss about? “Give me my pink card!”

OK fair enough, my first unsuccessful attempt at the test involved me driving on the wrong side of the road, but no one was harmed so what’s the big deal? . . . Or no deal. The second and third time . . . I don’t even know why I failed on subsequent attempts; they were just making stuff up (real talk). This cost me over well £100 each time, and I aint balling like that.

When I passed on my fourth attempt I was pretty damn relieved. The examiner told me that I was even ‘lucky’ to pass . . . what a jerk. Where was the luck? I drove, you sat there and we both came back alive. Before he told me that I had passed I wasn’t even sure . . . I had pretty much done the same things twice prior and failed. There is just no correlation.

When people tell me that they passed their test on the first attempt I’m like,

“So f**king what?
You think you’re better than me?
Huh?
You wanna throw down right now?
Huh?
I’ll kick your ass b*tch!”

And I’ll do it as well, because I’m petty like that. You’re not better than me; you just got lucky on the day . . . and exhale.

A to the . . .

Abandoned Nation

Some of you may remember the article I writ in January titled “Well, At Least We’re Staying Out Of The Papers” Well you can call this a follow up. Seeing that I am a young black man who lives in London, I feel that my opinion coupled with experiences certainly matters.

It’s highly unlikely that no one was a victim of these ‘lost youths’ in January, I still believe that the media simply overlooked prospective stories at the time. Why they did this I’m not perfectly sure, but it’s clearly evident that they are now trying to send out a clear message. This message seems to be that if you are a black male, and between the ages of 15-24 your chances of ending up on the front page are greatly increased. This is regarding both sides of the trigger.

We have (since February) seen an escalation in the reporting of youth murders in the news. A particular focus has been placed on murders involving young members of black communities in London. There are areas of London which are infamous for gangs and gun/knife culture. I used to live in one of these areas; I witnessed and experienced first hand the reality of senseless violence. When street life is hyped up, fabricated or subject to manipulation I find it easier to filter out the non-fictions and exaggerations.

Kodjo had recently spoken about knife crime when interviewed by the music
channel MTV. He said: "I think stabbing has got worse but the media also make it
bigger than what it is."

He is the latest teenager to die in a
series of attacks in the capital in recent weeks. Last month, three teenagers
alone were shot dead in separate incidents in south London.

Billy
Cox, 15, was shot dead at his home in Clapham while schoolboy Michael Dosunmu,
15, was shot in his bedroom in nearby Peckham days after James Smartt-Ford, 16,
was gunned down at Streatham ice rink.

Source:
http://www.itv.com/news/faad9d69600da8ba1fc8d634628be87c.html

Kodjo Yenga’s unfortunate story has a dark ironic undertone. In the face of this I still agree with his statement. Youths have been killing each other for as long as I can remember, and no one has been able to develop a solid theory or solution regarding this for just as long. When you ask someone who lives in the ‘streets’ about street life and they tell you that the turmoil is being overestimated, you can perceive that source to be quite reliable. Also take into consideration that everyone outside of the ‘streets’ is pretty clueless as to what is actually going on in them.

The Home Secretary admitted yesterday that the Government does not know enough
about the scale of knife violence and ordered police forces to start collecting
statistics on the use of knives in crime.

John Reid made the
announcement after the death at the weekend of 15-year-old schoolboy Adam
Regis.

Source:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml;jsessionid=PT2YCRSKQ3W0DQFIQMGCFF4AVCBQUIV0?xml=/news/2007/03/20/nknife20.xml

One major problem is the power of a negative minority; unfortunately the actions of a few can affect the lives of many more, rarely is this seen as significantly as when something bleak occurs. All of a sudden every young black male has a knife, every Muslim is a suicide bomber and all white females are binge drinkers. In reality there are not as many young, black, heartless killers as we are led to believe, nonetheless there are definitely too many. And of course they are not all young and black, but this will be our little secret.

How do you reason with the unreasonable?
Killing people is wrong, is this not common knowledge? Of course it is, but some people just don’t give a f*ck. Let’s not beat around the bush regarding this, it really is that simple. What’s frustrating is that no provocation is required when it comes to getting a knife in the chest, or a bullet in the head. Young tyrants are murdered on the same streets as ‘model students’.

I refuse to buy into ‘social theories’ which suggests that street crime in the UK is an imitation of that in the States. Murder and popular culture are two entirely different affairs. This isn’t a matter of Gangster Rap, baggy clothes and New Era caps. It is rather a dilemma that involves the heart of man, which in turn transcends deeper than race. And living in a society embedded in the developed world I believe that it also transcends deeper than culture. Without being too circumstantial, murder isn’t a culture, it’s a mind state.

The murder rate can be reduced significantly with a little bit of thought and a lot of effort, but who is ready to put the effort in? We are all consumed with our own problems until the reality of an abandoned nation becomes one of them.

A to the . . .

Shareen Presents: Have We Got It All Wrong?

Following the vast number of deaths appearing in the news of the young boys being killed, it has sparked a theory in my mind that ‘we’ as a consensus have got it wrong with whom we perceive to be the most vulnerable sex. The term vulnerable is defined as being, ‘capable of being physically or emotionally wounded; open to successful attack.’ Chambers (1991), ‘Concise Dictionary’ p1204. The word itself is compared to being ‘susceptible’, ‘weak’, ‘defenceless’, and ‘helpless’. I don’t want to put words in people’s mouths, but I will go on to assume that when relating these words to a particular sex, we would associate the female sex with the terminology.

I believe as a female, going for an evening out, there are so many factors I should be expected to consider. Forget the, ‘what am I going to wear?’ and ‘does my hair look nice?’ I have to think about whom I am meeting up with, where I am meeting them, is it a safe location? Am I going to be isolated? How am I getting home? Am I going to be on my own? Have I got extra money for a cab? I could go on . . . Hope you get the general drift.

Our friends, family, the media and the government have always had an instinctive concern for women’s safety. You have family (in my case my parents) ensuring I let them no of my whereabouts. When I go out for an evening they tend to want an idea whom I’m going out with and also for me to give and approx time that I will be rolling through the door.

The focus is largely on ensuring the safety of females, making sure they are careful of accepting drinks from strangers as they may contain a date rape drug. We should walk around clubs with fingers or palms covering the top of the drink, we are told not to get too drunk so we can get home safely, we are told to get into registered cabs to insure our safety and to travel in numbers even if it means crashing at a friend’s yard for the night. We are told to watch our back when walking on a street, and to stay visible to others etc.

Other terms for vulnerable are, ‘in danger’, and ‘at risk’!

Should men be considered to be at risk more so than females? My conclusion is YES. There are no statistics or evidence, and I have not begun to look for a study on the matter, so if you don’t agree calm down its my own theory. I have various reasons which have lead to this conclusion but I will only name a few… its 00.24am … I do want some sleep you no!

From my point of view, men are more likely to be:

1. Beaten up
2. Robbed
3. Stabbed
4. Murdered
5. Threatened
6. Involve in fights/gangs

I am not excluding females being subject to the same abuse, but males are more vulnerable to these kinds of situations. And because we associate man’liness as being ‘strong, brave; dignified; noble.’ Chambers(1991), ‘Concise Dictionary’ p 630, we may not worry about a males safety as much as we really should. The world is not the same place.

I am not saying that mums and dads do not stay up waiting for their sons to come home safely, but I am sure guys do not give as much details to parents of their whereabouts. Not as much as their female counterparts. Whilst females may say, ‘I’m going to the cinema’, males may just say ‘I’m going out.’

This is a contested issue and so much more could be said, but my point is that males need to be protected as much as females, it doesn’t take away ones macho’ness. We just need to stop taking for granted that men should be able to stand up for themselves and be safe out there, anything can happen to anyone at any time as made evident on the news lately.

Take care of yourselves and each other.

Shareen