Heart warming fuzziness on the Jubilee Line

It’s rare that you experience heart-warming moments on the commute to work, or actually, on the London Underground full stop. But yesterday morning, my entire 20mins on the Jubilee Line was an emotionally restorative journey.

For one thing, I got a seat straight away. (Friday morning is usually quieter than any other day, plus I was running a little late so had missed the school crowd.) This would have made me pretty happy, but then I realised that my seat was next to someone holding a super-cute baby.
Unusually, it was the father, rather than the mother taking their child into town. The presence of the baby transformed our section of the carriage. A large man in a grimy anorak sat opposite, engaged in a game of “peepo” with his copy of the Metro, which had her in stitches until he got off a couple of stops later. (I was almost as sad as she that he missed her wave goodbye!)
Then a very odd thing happened – the father struck up a conversation with me. This NEVER happens. People do NOT talk on the underground, you just don’t. But all the way to Baker Street we chatted about nurseries, the obstacles for buggies on London Transport and whether I had children (I was unreasonably surprised by this question, I keep forgetting that I could feasibly be a mother of several offspring!).
Abbie, the small child in question, kept me entertained with wide-eyed looks and smiles, I complimented her on the pink shoes that she seemed very proud of (she pointed at them repeatedly, saying “shoes, shoes”) and did my usual things that endear me to small children – making faces and generally being an idiot.
We all got off at my station, and my last sight of her was as I looked down the escalator behind me – she was still waving goodbye.
The power of a small child…it was Friday morning, I was exhausted, yet I felt warm and fuzzy and overall pleased with life. Hopefully one day I’ll bump into them again.


  1. Yay! I hope that there is time for you to be fuzzied by Jack this weekend!

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