Old school

Second coffee of the morning accompanied by a couple of bites of slightly stale croissant. Just made it on to train busy with tourists and randoms heading south out of London Bridge. Staring in an unfocused way at the moving points of light of the LED destination scroller.

Listening to downloaded old school (although whilst the sounds are familiar the tracks are not, so maybe old school ‘style’) mix on my now retro iPod whilst involuntarily moving leg and foot in tempo. What is that distantly familiar sensation? Vague chemical memory.

I’m coming up.

Hands in the air, in my head. Micro-euphoria. Buzzin, I’m sorted for caffeine and simple carbs. A few extras add authenticity – the twenty something tourist opposite in hoody, unlaced footwear and multiple piercings. And the two excited little Asian boys in bucket hats to my left.

I briefly wonder if there might be somewhere out there, in the few remaining South London warehouses we are passing by, some unfeasibly underground all-night, all-day, all-week rave. But at 10:15 on a Wednesday morning all south London’s young people will either be in work, on their way to college, or in bed.

The sensation passes and the train carries me further on my journey to sedate sub-suburban Surrey.

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