I descended the lift to catch my usual Northern Line tube train, for my sins.
The journey was largely unremarkable until late on, after most passengers had left the carriage, when I was joined by a jovial looking nun who sat down next to me.
My intense scrutiny of Metro’s cartoon page was interrupted as I realised my nun’s joviality was deteriorating towards mild panic.
She was sighing over her hastily-unfolded tube map, looking confusedly at its contents. My nun was looking flustered. My nun was looking blue.
Being the good Samaritan, I asked if I could help. She explained she needed to get to Archway, and was worried she was on the wrong train.
I could be of assistance here, I thought. I knew the Northern Line well. Actually give accurate instructions, rather than just pretend.
“Don’t worry.” I reassured her, “You’re on the right line. Just the wrong branch. You need to change at Camden, and all will be well, sister.”
Alas, she didn’t seem to understand. Clearly, she was not in the habit of travelling on the tube. But precise explanation of what she needed to do, and where she needed to go, appeared to assuage her fears. I was confident that absolutely nothing could go wrong.
Our journey continued, and I returned to Metro’s cartoons.
Before long, the automated voice announced: “The next station is Camden Town, Edgware branch. Change here for Northern Line trains to High Barnet and Mill Hill East.”
My nun looked alarmed. I guessed she was used to hearing voices in her head, just not that one. She really needed to get out more.
I nodded friendlilillillly, indicating this was her right stop. She smiled and thanked me for my help. I resisted the temptation to wink, and just told her she was welcome. She made her way towards the door. I returned again to Metro’s cartoons.
The train slowed to a halt, and my reading was once again interrupted, this time by a mild kerfuffle. Passengers further down the carriage gestured towards my new-found celibate friend.
My nun was repeatedly pressing the ‘Open Door’ button, exclaiming “I can’t get out! I can’t get out!!!”. My poor nun. This must have been hell for her.
Looking around, I immediately realised what had happened. The train had stopped before reaching the station, waiting for another train to clear the line ahead. I calmly explained to my nun that she was attempting to disembark in the tunnel, and should wait instead until we reached the platform.
A minute or two later, the train shuffled forward to the platform, and my nun stepped off without further incident.
I finished reading Metro’s cartoons, and skipped the business and sports pages for the day.
My work was done. I ascended the lift at my destination a Better Man.