I can see the train approaching the station and steel myself. What is going to happen is something I have never gotten used to. People begin to shift anxiously, throwing sideward glances at each other, questions speeding through their minds. Where will the train stop on the station? How full is it? Am I wearing clean underwear because there is a good possibility I may die in the crush this time?
Here comes the pain.
The doors open and the silent screaming begins as hundreds of people rush and push and shove and kick small babies out of the way just to get a seat on the train. I mean it's a ten minute ride into London from here, must get a seat, to stand is a sign of weakness in this city and it's survival of the fittest at Clapham Junction station at rush hour.
No seat for me as usual today. Not that I mind being crushed so close to the next person I can see the sweat dripping from their nostril hairs. Standing means I can bypass the usual early morning paranoia of trying to avoid the eyes of the people sitting around or opposite me. If you aren't paranoid before you arrive in this city, give it a few weeks and you will soon notice it creeping in, dripping into your subconscious like a leaky tap.
The trick is not to give a toss what anyone thinks about you, and if you are in the right frame of mind, this can be an easy trick to perform.



