Girl on a train

Dark hair pulled back (no not as extreme as the Croydon facelift), beautiful green eyes, pale skin, skulpted bones and a full mouth a la Angelina, late 20's at a guess. Tailored pale pink shirt, grey check "A " line skirt (it looked better than it sounds...). Tall, very tall, not skinny, but statuesque or amazon. Strong Handsome Woman. Glances once as she gets on, again, this time I catch her, she looks down, again I catch her, she looks left. She's trying not to look again. Train fills up, she still catches my eyes occasionally while glancing around. She leaves at Baker Street.

It must be pheromones. Those of the bloke behind me possibly. I am not that cute, in fact cute would be a distinct misnomer. Cute descibes small and perfectly formed, non threatening, neat packages. Not scruffy, rough, outsize and unfinished which is genernally how I appear. Maybe I appeared so abhorrent that, like a car crash she had to keep glancing back. Maybe I look like her long lost uncle/brother/grandfather, maybe she's trying to determine where the smell is coming from. All of these cross my mind and are dismissed.

I am male obviously and have an ego therefore she must, despite the obvious indicators to the contrary, be one of the more derranged women that could find such a beast attractive. Clearly. It will be a better day now.

The only problem is I will now vainly attempt to get into the same carriage at the same time everyday, ultimately, like the Waterloo magistrate, leading to a charge of indecent exposure or stalking.