Helpless London

The theme of today seems to be all about help. How often as a species do we choose to help one another?

I’m sure many of you have read or heard about the experiment that occurred at Victoria Station where two young girls were told to act lost. Over 600 people walked past the two girls and only 1 person stopped to help.

There are many situations in which going to help someone may indeed have a negative result as oppose to actually being helpful. And I have found myself in said conundrum multiple times in the past week and have felt and acted differently each time.

I choose to share these tales with you for two reasons. Firstly, I believe if you have had a shit Monday the following information is likely to urge at least a hint of a smile. Secondly, all of these stories are set in London Town, and so to all who are desperate to live here, I feel you should get a true taster of what to expect.

A few weeks ago I was on my normal morning commute with my iPod in when I heard a man shouting “excuse me” behind me. My natural thought process on hearing this is that if I turn round, it is just plain vanity to assume they are talking to me, which of course is rediculous and he was in fact talking to me. “Sorry but, you have a spider in your hair. Would you like me to remove it for you?” YES I BLOODY WOULD. I had been commuting a good 20 minutes by this point, how many other people had seen the creature setting up camp in my well brushed hair?! So help=helpful.

The next incident happened just a few days ago. There was a man sitting across from me on the train and he started to look uncomfortable. After realising the toilet was out of order he stood by the door. It wasn’t until he started to bend over that I realised he obviously didn’t feel well. The next thing I know he’s taking his book out his satchel and- enviably on the sly- vomming into it! I started to rummage with the Sainsburys bag I was carrying my lunch in so I could give it to him. But when I looked around, only I and one other man seemed to have noticed him. So I could go up and draw attention to exactly what he was doing, or just let him get on with it. His bag was already ruined! Lack of help= ???

The next two incidents both happened today.

I decided to celebrate Spring today by wearing a particularly bright yellow dress. As it was sunny I didn’t feel stupid, but I can’t deny I stood out amongst the black and blue suits. Whilst on the underground I overheard a woman asking which platform she needed to be on and no one was helping her. She was clearly in a rush and so I told her where to go. I saw her run on to the train and I carried on walking to work. Of course 3 seconds later I realised I had told her the completely wrong platform. So she probably missed a train to some very important appointment because I was trying to be ‘helpful’. But never fear, a mere 10 hours later I got my punishment.
Help= less than useless.

Freshly showered and changed at the gym back into my bright yellow dress I was gathering my things to leave the changing room when I felt the back of my dress missing. Yes, I had been walking around the changing rooms for a good 15 minutes and had even partaken in a short conversation with someone at the hair dryers- where she was STOOD BEHIND ME and no one chose to inform me that my rather bright yellow dress was tucked into my tights.
Lack of help= extremely unhelpful!

So there you have it folks. If you come to London, the chance is you’re going to need help and not get it because they are trying to spare you the embarrassment or because London commuters really are the shits they’re made out to be.

Oh and there’s some girl walking round with a spider in her hair, laughing at you vommimg on the train with her dress tucked into her tights whilst she gives you the wrong directions.

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