I'll Love You

7}~ The London Underground

Nicole's P.O.V.

I stood in the line of dwadling people, waiting to get to the ticket machine. I kept glancing down at my watch to ensure I wouldn't be late, when eventually I made it to the A.T.M. like machine in the wall, payed for my pass and moved swiftly out of the way.

In a way, Tube stations are amazing, they're really fast, they go everywhere in London, they come every five minutes and they are easy to navigate a route between destinations. But in another way they are hell. Living hell.

They are always crowded, you'd be EXTREMELY lucky to get a seat, especially early in the morning and evening. There are also lots of pick-pockets and thieves, so holding money or a phone in your hand could result in it being nicked and never seen again.

But the worst thing is that it's just so busy! There is always a stream of people going down the escalators, or waiting on the platforms, so many that you can get caught up in the stampede and separated from any companions. 

I fed my ticket in through the gates, pulled it out the other side and walked through, standard procedure, and made my way over to the escalators leading down to the different lines.

On the London Underground, when travelling up or down on the huge escalators, you stand on the right, so anyone in a hurry can walk faster down the other side.

It gets to the point where you don't even have to think about what train to get on, or where it will take you, it becomes second nature.

Circle Line from Tower Hill to Moorgate. Change here for Northern Line to Euston. Change here for West side stretch to Mornington Crescent.

When I boarded the tube, I was lucky enough to get a seat, which I soon had to give up for an elderly man who didn't look so elderly, more like  thirty year old in and checkered jacket, farmers' cap and walking stick. 

Oh well.

I spent the next ten minutes with my nose in a very tall person's armpit, clinging onto the bar above my head for dear life.

Eventually, I shoved my way out of the train at Moorgate, and crossed over to the Northern Line platform and got on the next train. 

When it came I nearly stayed put and waited for the next one, but after consultation with my watch and the time it had to offer, I jumped on and prayed my project didn't get mangled in my bag.

I exited the train at Euston, boarded another one moments later and arrived in Mornington Crescent suitably shaken.

As I travelled up the steep escalator, I jogged up the left hand side as I had a ten minute walk to make and only ten to make it.

Tearing my ticket out of my pocket, a fed it through the slip in the gate, and walked through, placing it carefully back into my bag. 

I jogged up the stone steps into the grey London morning, and started to walk East.

I've said it before but this is the standard procedure: walk, squeeze, train, squash, train, crush, train, squish, walk, college, then the exact same journey home.

Eventually I made it to the main gate of Central Saint Martin's College, where I was doing my "Free-Hand Design" course.

I hurried in, and made my way over to my locker, number 881, shoved in my key, unlocking the door. I thrust my coat and my laptop in, shut the cold metal door and spun round to see the one person I didn't want to be alone with.

Luke Hunter.

"Hey Nicole," he said, slyly and confidently.

"Hunter." Was all I said to acknowledge this low-life scum-bag.