Page 38 of Play On

Noah, Noah, Noah.

I cannot wait to see him, and I literally only just saw him hours ago.

What a blissful feeling this is.

I begin my walk down to the tube station, thinking this is a spectacular morning. The sun is shining. The sky is a beautiful blue, dotted with clouds that look like pulled pieces of candy floss. I pass by the beautiful Georgian homes and listen to the bustle of traffic in the street. London has its own unique energy, and I’m always reminded of it the second I’m back in the city.

Before long, I’ve made my way to the tube. I pop onto the one that is closest to The Biscuit Cutter and take a seat. Well, I glance down at the seat first, as I am wearing white jeans. I frown. Probably not the best choice of colour for a ride on the tube, but oh well, here I am.

I sit down and watch the people who file onto the tube. This is almost like a sport, really. I love people watching, and riding the tube is perfect for that. So far, everyone appears to be normal. That’s almost a disappointment.

A young man enters the carriage right before the doors shut, and he has a large rucksack with him. Instead of taking a seat, he sits down on the floor in front of me and unzips it. Then he begins taking out pieces of clothing and smelling them.

Yes! Things are about to get interesting!

I watch in fascination as he puts all the contents of his rucksack through a sniff test.

The man makes two piles. Hmm. One must be clean smelling and the other dirty?

He closes his eyes and inhales a rolled-up T-shirt. A look of bliss passes over his face, and he exhales slowly. “Clean,” he pronounces in a serious voice.

I was right!

He shifts his gaze up to meet mine. “Would you like to smell my socks?” he asks.

The woman sitting next to me snorts. Now I feel as if everyone on the carriage is watching this unfold.

“No, thank you,” I reply brightly. “I appreciate you offering, though.”

“Your loss. They smell like apple blossoms,” he replies, putting them into one of the piles.

I’m sure they do.

Soon he has his clothing sorted into two piles, and then he puts the pile without the socks in first, so I assume those are the “not smelling like apple blossoms” selection, then he puts the clothing that does smell like apple blossoms on top. He zips the bag shut, stands up, and then looks at me again.

“What fabric softener do you use?” he asks.

Erm … I wonder if he is going to be offended by my answer. “I really don’t use one,” I confess.

His eyes widen. “You don’t?” he gasps.

“For God’s sake,” the woman next to me mutters as she reads her phone. “Why are you indulging this?”

I’m about to ask why she cares when the man unzips his rucksack again. He hands me a bottle of fabric softener. “Take this with my compliments,” he insists. “It’s going to change your life.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, but that’s not necessary,” I say, sticking my hand up.

“No, I want you to have it. You should have a whiff of apple blossom around you every day,” he says, thrusting the bottle at me.

I take the bottle as people around me stare, trying not to laugh, or act completely oblivious to this bizarre situation. But when I see how much this man wants me to have it, all I can think is why not? It will make him happy if I accept it.

So that’s exactly what I will do.

“Well, thank you. I’ll enjoy it with my next wash,” I say brightly.

The tube comes to a stop. I exit, carrying my new gift, and make my way towards The Biscuit Cutter. As soon as it comes into view, I can’t help but smile. Not only is it one of my favourite bakeries, but it’s also so beautiful to look at. The shop is decked out with a stunning arrangement of flowers all around the door, and it’s all purple and white on this late June day. There are café tables and chairs set up outside, and some people are taking advantage of the sunny weather and enjoying some pastries and tea outdoors.

“Violet!”

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