Last week, Elaine, a friend of hers (D) and I went to an art gallery. On our return we caught the Overground train at Highbury and Islington, heading towards Stratford [1].
There were only two seats available, and being the gentleman that I am [2], I stood while Elaine and D sat down.
Me (to Elaine): Enjoying sitting down, are you?
At this point, the bloke sitting next to Elaine leapt out of his seat.
Bloke: Here, sit down.
Me: No, it’s alright, really, I was joking.
Bloke: No, I insist!
D went bright red.
D: I hope you feel suitably embarassed.
Me: I do, I do.
Elaine: That was so embarassing.
Me: I know.
I tried to bury my face behind a book, which was hard because it’s only a paperback. [3]
Notes
In my opinion, even unimportant details are important, because they put flesh on the bones, so to speak.
Who says chivalry is dead?
Othello, since you ask. I’m reading it for the first time ever, and I’ve never seen it either. (I told you I’m an uneducated slob, didn’t I?) Boy, that Iago is a piece of work, isn’t he?
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