Airing views
(Air conditioning on the tube: London, UK)
This made me laugh a wee bit yesterday morning on my ‘commute’ to South West London. I have used the tube every single day that I have been in London (which is thirteen days so far) and changed on several lines at various stations but I have never paid attention to the air con before. I’ve seen the expected vents and grilles but never appreciated the more visible and less integrated systems. It’s basically an oversized industrial fan, trapped in a cage, isn’t it?
The tube has its own air currents provided by all the trains and the air rushing through all the tunnels, but it isn’t an icy blast of cool street air, it’s that fuggy, greasy air that may have been doing the subterranean rounds for weeks or longer. The tube in general is a God sent blessing and a terrible curse; it’s the easiest and quickest way to move from one place to another (when fully functional) but absolutely horrendous during a strike, signal failure or late at night – more on that later. I do like the tube though, especially when they proudly announce on the tannoy that all lines are running with no delays. I suppose as a passenger, I take that for granted, but I find it amusing that they announce it like a child explaining that they haven’t ripped their school trousers for a week.
I found myself in a travel blackspot last night, coming home from Drury lane at tennish. My changeover to the overground was closed and a sign recommended changing at the next station. It didn’t explain how. That’s why I found myself somewhere near the Arsenal football ground waiting on a mysterious bus to Whitechapel (where is that?) at 11.10pm and then trudging back home on a seemingly endless road with a vaguely familiar name. Thankfully during my struggle, I recalled an earlier exchange I overheard on the tube. One well dressed man said very earnestly to another; “every time she goes out, she comes home covered in fox poo. She’s had four baths this week.” Not realising for a few seconds that the subject was a dog and not a person, I turned away and began to shake with and uncontrollable fit of giggles until the doors finally opened and I could make good my escape.
– Today Rosie is in the UK, being shown around Deptford in London –
