I am standing in East Acton tube station (I know, I really know how to live, me). I am waiting to get a printout of my last few oyster trips, to remind me where I’ve been. There is me, the ticket office guy, and a woman, standing silently, staring up at the clock.
9:29:30 … 9:29:35 …9:29:40 … 9:29:45 … 9:29:50 … 9:29:55 … 9:30:00
And suddenly she springs into life, puts her oyster card on the reader and bustles off to catch her off-peak train, and the ticket office guy and I, who have been waiting, mesmerised, too, get on with our transaction.
I just hope the gates are synchronised with the station clock…