Thursday, 5 February 2009

An Uncomfortable Moment...



- do not be afraid, we are here for you -


When you live in London you pretty much relinquish most of your privacy - it's no secret there are over four million CCTV cameras in London, but that's not what this is about...

I got on my usual Victorian tube home last night, lucky enough to find a seat in and amongst the other thousands of rats, "Oh what's this? A bit of fortune, what does the rest of the evening hold for me then?" I pondered to myself as I carefully balanced my well toned ass on the grime stained maroon seat. Opposite me sat a middle aged Asian man dressed smartly in a black suit but he had these sunglasses on that resembled Kim Jong Il’s. In fact the man looked exactly like him. Beside him sat his daughter clutching a Versace shopping bag, bracing herself nervously as her father, ‘Kim’, waxed lyrical about the Leica camera he had in his hands. I couldn’t understand what he was saying but I could make out it was something about how good the camera was because the universal symbol for ‘OKAY’ was thrown in at the end…

Then came the slow motion sequence. He was going to demonstrate…on the tube. The ‘ON’ button was pushed and the lens slid into life, LED lights flickering here and there like a mini discoteque (love that word) in his sweaty hand. He motioned to his uninterested daughter to look into the view screen, ‘What clarity!’ I imagined him saying, ‘And I got it at a bargain price!’ no doubt…
But wait, as he held it anxiously up for his bored offspring to view I noticed that the protruding lens was auto-focusing, back and forth, in and out until it fixed its technocratic gaze firmly….ON ME! With the ease and grace of a seasoned tourist ‘Kim’ pressed down on the chrome button and I watched as the shutter slam down like a soldier’s boot on Remembrance Day.
‘Kim’, chuffed with his demonstration he just gave to his daughter, brought the device back down toward himself and took a look at the viewing screen. I imagine the picture of my face was framed perfectly, probably adhered to all specifications of a passport photo. Quietly, through his thick glasses I could see his eyes lift toward my very pissed off face, I shook my head at him with the fervor of Bruce Lee in Enter The Dragon. He gave me a cheeky smirk and carried on chewing his poor daughter’s ear off. I was so incensed I had to stand up, give up my internally heated, cozy seat and move further down the carriage. My trip home was ruined. Not even Mary Maddux could help me.

I got over it quickly enough but what was bothering me the rest of the way home was just why I had gotten this over whelming feeling of my privacy being violated. My ENTIRE trip the moment I walk in to Earlsfield Station in the mornings is recorded on CCTV, I’m never alone (yet so alone) on London transport. So why would one little shitty photo take so much out of me?

Sweetie’s chicken stir fry cheered me right up when I reached the sanctity of the Treehouse – now she is getting me into Army Wives… Gossip Girl, The Hills, and now this… I’m growing a set of breasts.

Under gray skies…


1 comment:

  1. I dont miss London very much.

    I am also getting My Boyf into Gossip Girls - poor guy :)

    ReplyDelete

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