Like a virgin head chef MCR -> GLD

His head like a brussels sprout was topped off with a black Sox baseball cap. He had to sit directly opposite. His mam looked anxiously in through the train window from the platform. As soon as he sat down he called her phone. She was just the other side of the glass, they'd been standing on the platform together waiting for the train to pull in. His dad stood a yard behind, just watching. They talked, the same talk they'd have been talking if they'd still been standing out on the platform, perhaps the same conversation they'd been having all morning, all week, all his life. We were delayed, but only a little. The delay was making them talk more. "It's like watching a kung fu movie" he said "I can see your lips moving, but it takes a second or two to hear the words."

The train pulled out. "The train's pulling out" he told her, as he watched her and his dad recede into the distance, the phones still clasped to their ears. He hung up. "Well," he said, to who? himself? the carriage as a whole? the volume or tone hadn't changed since he ended the call, "Well, it looks like I just missed the rain"

On my right a young engineering student opened his laptop, plugged in his mouse and his headphones. Got the usb plug for his mouse the wrong way up first of all, but soon worked it out. He spent a good five minutes sorting out his Spotify playlist for the journey. Then he got down to calculating stresses on a fanbelt. He got an old skool LCD scientific calculator out. He looked at it kind of sideways, maybe the display was failing. He would tap on that and then tap something on his computer. Then hum. Both he and brussells sprout man were jiggling and nodding to their music.

I didn't hurt anyone, I didn't shout or even do any passive aggressive sighs or tuts, I just got up and excused myself and sat in another seat. The path of least resistance.

---

I woke up on the sofa. Someone was knocking on the door.

The doorkey was missing from it's place above the cupboard, so I had to get mine from my coat pocket. There was a short man standing outside grinning in a very over the top way. He clearly wanted to signal to me that he was not dangerous and it was OK to open the door even though it was 7 o'clock in the evening and nobody ever calls then.

"Hello, I am Ahmed from Gousto" he said, pointing first to his branded apron and then to the namebadge pinned to it.

"Am I right in thinking that I am talking to the head chef of the household?"

"Yes, thank you, I understand why you're here and I've met your colleagues before in the street and I have an idea of what you're trying to sell and thank you but it's not for me. I'm not interested."

"OK" he threw up his hands in mock surrender "thank you for your time, goodbye". And he disappeared into the cold November night.