bored of excitement – the griefjunkie blog 

Dear Rachel

Yeah I was on London’s underground tube rail network this morning on the way to Convent Garden market when I found that, due to overcrowding on the Central Line, I was actually in someone’s kiss. Or, more correctly, two peoples’ kiss. Like, you would usually think yeah, get a room, however I very much got the impression that these two already had a room, and had spent a lot of time in it, probably immediately prior to getting on the network. I actually felt that I had inadvertently walked into their room, in fact. I mean, it’s nice to see and everything, two people sharing a nice moment in the midst of several hundred people sharing a horrible one, it’s just that I was right in the kiss, so close were we all packed together, and I hadn’t introduced myself or showered or anything.

[Hitting 'read more' now will reveal details of our combined efforts with the posh weirdo children from our East Yard compadres, Meaningless Slogan]

If nothing else though, it made a bit of a change to actually have people next to me: me and Pikey Dave first bonded when we both discovered that no one will ever sit next to us on the tube. Myself, I spend a lot of time on the Northern Line. I would go as far as to say that if you trace it between Moorgate (where you get off for Spitalfields if you’re a solid professional) and Archway (where Junction Road is), then that is griefjunkie country. And what a lush and verdant and glorious principality it is, as I’m sure you’ll agree. Anyway, if I get on the tube at, say, Kentish Town, and I’m going to Moorgate, I will always get a seat no problemo. At King’s Cross, loads of people usually get on, as it’s one of the principal stations and all that. However, even though it will be standing room only, and even though I don’t consider myself particularly intimidating, I will always have empty seats on either side of me. To help with the heartache, I have taken to sitting on the end, so that there is only one side of me on which to sit, and I guarantee it will almost always remain empty as the train travels under Euston Road, through the City and to the western reaches of the East End. Like, I can understand Dave being shunned in a confined space, as his face looks like kind of thing you put a candle in and leave on your doorstep at Halloween, but I just look slightly careworn and threadbare. Bunch of wankers.

Anyway. Convent Garden market itself is quite enigmatic. It always reminds me of that thing they say about rats, ie that you are never further than three foot away from one in London. In central London, you are never more than than three foot from Convent Garden Market, but, like a rat, unless you actually fall over it you’ll never find it. It always seems to be ‘just behind’ something. My favourite thing that Convent Garden is ‘just behind’ is St Martin’s In The Fields, but it is also ‘just behind’ the National Portrait Gallery, Centrepoint, the Strand, Shaftesbury Avenue, High Holborn, the Royal Opera House, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, the British Museum and very probably Brighton Pavilion, Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Great Wall of China. It should by rights be visible from space, but it isn’t even visible from Convent Garden tube station. It’s more like a virus than a market, come to think of it.

Sad face though when we finally arrived – we, I should probably point out, being myself and Anthony from Meaningless Slogan, who does all those t shirts about not being Swedish and aprons about being a gay chef – as we got arbitrarily blown out by the management, although we’ll have another go next week I should think. The aprons are alright. I’ve actually contributed a few designs, because I wanted to produce an apron with Can You Smell Burning? on it, and one with Fondue Ron Ron Ron Fondue Ron Ron, so this formed the basis for our unlikely partnership. It’s unlikely because I once remember saying that if you were coming in the East Yard from Camden High Street, you’d go past our stall first, and then Anthony’s, which would be like seeing the Beatles and then finding out that they were supporting the Monkees. Ho hum. Interesting times innit.