Posts from September 17, 2010

This morning, a gentleman was reading a copy of The Times on my South West Trains service bound for London Waterloo. Nothing too surprising about that.

However, this man continued to intently consume the day's important news stories as he left the train and made his way down to the Underground network.

This chap wasn't reading a newspaper though. He was an early adopter so he was reading the electronic version of The Times on an Apple iPad. Clearly, the content is so captivating, the display is so sharp and the font is so crystal clear that he simply has to continue reading the news as he descends the staircase at platform 4, tightly packed in a mass of humanity, down to the Waterloo and City line.

I'm not a rabid Apple hater. I think Apple are an innovative design company who have helped spark some much needed competition; particularly into the mobile ‘device' market.

What irritates me though is the fact that this chap wasn't using the iPad like people use a newspaper. People don't generally read a newspaper as they descend a set of stairs. People generally don't hold a device costing over £400 (although I suspect this chap splashed out on the 3G/WiFi/64GB version which costs a staggering £750) out in front of them and nonchalantly pretend to to fascinated at the content while navigating a set of steps and simultaneously being jostled by rushing commuters from all directions.

This gentleman was doing this for one reason and one reason only - fervently hoping and praying that someone, just anyone, would look at him and his fancy tablet, maybe even ask him about it, exclaim ‘Wow ! Alan - look, that guy's got an iPad !' or just surreptitiously try to look over his shoulder to catch a glance of last night's football results.

Part of me was urging him to lose his footing, tumble forward down six steps, falling flat on on his face, dropping his fancy, overpriced, electronic gadget, shattering the screen in three places.

But unfortunately he didn't. Despite me barging into him. Twice.

What a complete iPoser.

I believe it was Tommy Docherty who christened the phrase ‘the innocence of youth when he described the joyful, attacking football of the newly promoted Manchester United team during the 1975–1976 season.

One of my favourite bloggers, Jonathan Beckett, also reminded me of ‘the innocence of youth' recently when he recounted how he dare not tell one of his three daughters that the family was getting three new kittens imminently lest she responded by ‘jumping up and down uncontrollably'.

When he was younger, my nephew was so overcome by nervous energy and excitement at birthdays and Christmas, his body literally overheated. Occasionally, his mother had to send him to his bedroom to lie down quietly with a damp flannel covering his face. This made present selection relatively easy though; we just bought him a flannelette selection and a ice-pack.

This morning, I witnessed the glorious innocence of youth at first hand when I saw two pretty young schoolgirls get on the train [where's this going ? - Ed] and then each girl shared one cord of a pair of earphones to listen to music on, what I believe young people call, a portable MP3 player. The two girls immediately started smiling and one started dancing on the spot.

I couldn't help smiling myself as I looked across at the happy, carefree faces of these two giggling girls.

Then we got to Wimbledon station where a group of silent, miserable, soulless commuters boarded the train, pushing and shoving to claim their rightful place, desperate to get on the 08:34, desperate to get to the office for another day of mind numbing monotony.

The train was really quite full now but still more determined men and women continued to force their way on, almost crushing the air and joy out of these two slightly built girls who were gradually swamped and seemed to disappear from view as the vast array of grown adults surrounded them in a pincer movement.

The girls reacted by moving closer to each other and then one happened to look up at a gentleman's arm which extended over their heads to clasp onto the pole. They looked at each other and promptly burst into another fit of helpless giggles.