The newspaper seller looked pleased to see me...
I was emerging from Pimlico station and was approaching the Evening Standard vendor by the exit. There was something unusual about the way he stood; he'd adopted that stance that people unconsciously adopt when they're in the presence of someone famous or admirable.

I'm not famous, and, though I am admirable, the chances of the vendor knowing that were, I had to admit, small.

The man next to whom I'd been sitting on the tube and who was walking out of the station at my shoulder stopped to buy a paper.
"Good morning, Mr Wenger," said the vendor.

Briefly, I considered pointing out that that's not my name. But then I realised he wasn't talking to me.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 12:52, Reply)