Snow joke (sorry)

Despite the fact that my shower last night consisted of a bucket filled up with water from the kettle and a gravy boat (I’m nothing if not innovative) I awoke this morning in good spirits, determined not to let the inevitable travel chaos due to the snow (any excuse London Transport) get me down. A look out of the window filled me with childish joy, unusually for snow in London which generally just means that I fall over on the way to work, get really wet and the tubes don’t work.
After a leisurely breakfast and the usual issue over which shoes to wear I set off into snowy Leytonstone. Managing to not fall over and not get hit in the face with a snowball by any of the six foot tall school children on the way to the tube constituted two minor miracles. Even the woman who kept wiping her wet bag on me or the guy with his elbow in my boob all the way to Holborn didn’t dampen my spirits.
But then, it all went tits up. After standing for the usual eight stops I finally got a seat opposite a rather nice looking young man. I pretended to read my book whilst trying to catch his eye. Eye caught as planned, a few cheeky looks were exchanged. Then, disaster struck. As I stood up to get off the train, I managed to somehow throw my book at the nice looking guy, narrowly missing his eye. Then it fell on the floor in the puddle at his feet. Thankfully it was Jane Austen, so I might have been able to pull off some kind of sexy, clumsy intellectual type thing, if it wasn’t for the Legolas bookmark which fell out and landed in his crotch. As he handed it to me he gave me a sympathetic smile, obviously meant to make me feel better about my total geekiness. It didn’t.