Drama on the London Underground

The girl lay slumped against a wall in front of me and someone ran to push the emergency button. I was nearly at the bottom of the Jubilee line escalator when I came across this scene. I found it shocking, but then I’m not used to drama these days.

An eventful day in West Cork is popping to the small supermarket in the village to meet my friend June for a takeaway coffee while she sits in her car selling tickets for the pitch and putt lottery.

Someone we know might walk past while she’s hanging out of her driver’s window passing tickets to customers, and they might climb into the back of the car with me to tell us some urgent gossip: ‘Did you hear Roisin’s son has bought that big house on the road to Drinagh? It’s got a gate that opens when he presses a button.’

And I’ll sit there slurping my latte, thinking absolutely nothing, aside from: ‘What am I going to cook him for his dinner? I better go and buy a couple of steaks…’ This emptying of my head has been an absolute pleasure, and if it never fills back up again I shall be delighted, given what we’ve had to deal with and think about these past four years.