w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

Today's lyric:

"No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings
Like I do - and I blame you
No one bites back as hard on their anger
None of my pain and woe can show through."

The Who: "Behind blue eyes"
From the album: "Who's next"

You got into my carriage* and sat across the aisle, but facing me. I haven't seen you before, so you're not a regular commuter. We certainly have never spoken before.

We both settle into our respective seats, and head home for the weekend...

As my mind idles, not really enjoying my current read, I imagine conducting a one-way interview, in which I guess your character and life, just from your face. Maybe it could be the subject of a post?

So you must neither agree or disagree with my deductions, as that would colour my next guess...

You are 37, approaching 38. Your unconventional beauty is perhaps what made me notice you? An aquiline nose draws out your face into a diamond shape. Full lips, but not an artificial 'trout pout'. The unusual attractiveness has given you a determined character - one which some of your colleagues find difficult to work with, but most would claim that it makes you a good 'no nonsense' boss to work for.

Ah yes, you are a City worker. Middle management - heading up a small but high-profile team. Simple, but smart, business suit. Possibly banking, or insurance. Banking, I think. Yet you can be impetuous, as the sudden, mid-trip opening of your laptop and the staccato rattling of the keyboard indicate?

As you brush back your hair - which is not your natural colour, but is not that far from the truth - you display a simple, silver wedding band. You always visit the same hairdresser. God help any other coiffeuse who messes with that carefully-tousled look.

The make-up is carefully but minimally applied. Enough to keep the inevitable ageing at bay. But no need yet to trowel it on. The brief memo dealt with, the laptop is shut down and you settle back again in your seat. I return to my book and thoughts.

I get off the train. You continue to, where, Brighton? No - Hove? I head off into my weekend and completely forget about you. The premise for the post probably lost for ever. I do have a life.

And then on Monday evening, you once again enter my compartment, and sit next to me. A brief telephone call to your partner - you've been given a small gift by the delegation from a country you've just done business with, and you're gratefully pleased.

Then you drift off into sleep, your mouth slightly open and very gently snoring. Just enough so that I can hear you above the Walkman's lulls, but not unduly obtrusive.

So I have to wake you to escape from my seat, and you politely apologise for having dozed off. Though, of course, it's nothing to do with me really. And so we 'part'

* I am not a stalker - honest!