Four Foot Eight

London Bridge

Rush-hour crowds are streaming through the station at half past eight in the morning, flooding down from the main line platforms into the Underground on the way to work. They push and shove and hurry and tut, glaring at anyone who dares to move more slowly than themselves, a huge mass of tutting, stressed humanity.

One man walks along slowly with his head down. The crowd flows around and past him, tutting and rolling its eyes in impatience at his dawdling. Let them tut, he thinks. Why are they all in such a hurry? It's only bloody work - by the way these guys push and shove and rush you'd think they were on their way to do something they actually want to be doing.