I used to think that I was a good person. The type of person who held doors open for the elderly, smiled at strangers and understood when someone stepped on my toes.
I also used to shun the notion of the 'London Curse'. The idea that working, living and travelling in London turns you into some kind of monster, ready to snap as soon as someone brushes shoulders with you on your way onto the tube.
I have since grown up, began working in London, and have near on trampled many of the elderly to get onto the central line.
I have become the curse.
Today I got onto my train, luckily found a seat and then thankfully avoided sitting in it as I realised it was be covered in pink crumbled makeup, smeared all over the chair ready and waiting to taint my new jeans with embarrassment.
Instead I sat opposite and when a middle aged man in a fresh Marks and Spencer's suit came to sit down in my discarded seat I found myself suddenly mute. Condemned to say nothing as the curse held my tongue.
I sat in shame as I watched the poor man wriggle into his seat settling down for his commute. It was too late I didn't want to be a part of the red faced/red bottomed parade as he would no doubt jump up if I told him and proceeded to wipe his bum, which would be only inches from my face, patting and brushing and smearing and staining.
No, I would say nothing.
Please don't think that I really am an awful person, I will frequently give up my seat for a pregnant woman, or give directions to a tourist, helpful or otherwise, but it’s just I've been wronged by the commute so many times.
And it's not only the people, a couple of weeks ago I was locked in the toilet of a train and missed my stop (excuse me for getting cocky and thinking I could take on the on-board loos).
The week before this I had attempted to stand just before a train pulled into the station. We all know that we should wait until we feel the lurch of the breaks but once again I was cocky and as usual late and instead felt the lurch of the breaks as I was launched into an unsuspecting 20 something male's lap. I had of course tried to brace myself to avoid the peril of contact with a fellow passenger, only to find that I had 'spam slapped' the large balding man to my right as I fell, leaving him with a bright red forehead. As I sat in the lap of the handsome stranger uttering my apologies I found we STILL couldn't bring ourselves to make eye contact!
But the moral of the story is the curse can save you as well as condemn.
As the man with the newly stained pink bottom and I stood up a, shall we say, 'newbie' lent in to reveal the horror dancing over the suited man's backside. I felt terrible! Here comes the embarrassment parade and worse than that I am now party to the crime. However, due to the curse no one turned round to me to say; 'Hey you bitch, why the hell didn't you stop him sitting there?' Instead we all smiled tight lipped at each other nodded a few times and then walked swiftly down the platform and into the crowds, hopefully never to see each other again.