Just tootling along on the Central Line gone are the early day blues.
Not even thinking about anything not trying to link in to some daydream or muse.
The passengers now are a different kettle, if fish are so used to being used, there is chatter and clatter and laughter, which comes at the right time as I poodle along on this underground which again is fine if you like it.
I find that I like it much better at this time the time being going home time, ( you can't go wrong with a Sekonda on your wrist )
So what makes for a good male when a good woman can make him much better?
I'm only guessing at the ghosts of these questions that mist over my mind now and then