Tags: bus

Monday 23rd July 2012

The stairs from platforms 1 and 2 at New Cross Gate (1839-).

“Could you give me a hand up the stairs?”

“Seriously? I’ve been carrying things up stairs all friggin day… e-yar give us an end.”

“Thanks.” … “Can I get to Elephant and Castle from here?”

“Oh yeah, the bus stop up the road, I’m walking that way.”

“Do you live here?”



“Because I moved here with my girlfriend, because I needed to move on but didn’t know how. So here I am.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, at the moment I do, the place that is, the time not so much but hey. I like the place, it feels like a town but it’s also London. I liked it even in the rain, more so, there was a lot of noise where I was before and I was surprised to find less here.”

“Times are good and bad and places are just places.”

“It would seem that way, but they connect so’s to make it more interesting for us. I wish it was a better time though, because I like it here and it would be nice if it was perfect. The colours are different and there is so much to do, which is what I wanted, but it was supposed to be a challenge, not a task. I’m still up for it but it seems like a job now, I have no choice, I’m rolling the boulder when I wanted to be building a shed.”

“Don’t get bitter though, you don’t know where you’ll follow the boulder.”

“Yes. Easy to say that when you’re passing through. My eyes are here. And despite the colour change they can’t see over the terraces yet. I feel short, buried up to my knees.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. No thanks. This is your stop. Get the 53 or the 453, it’s not far.”

“Thanks. I hope you get better time soon.”

“Me too.”