A conversation in the Tube

A elderly man, red-rimmed eyes darting above an unshaven face, stumbles onto the Underground train. He trips slightly on our array of backpacks, almost losing his grasp on the dented can of beer in his right hand. I hear him swear not-quite-under-his breath and as he swings into the empty seat across from me he barely misses hitting several people with the guitar case strapped across his back.

Settled in, he turns to the rather proper 60-something women in the next seat and suggests, rather directly, that we all should have left our bags at the end of the car. "You can't" she says, "you'd be blocking the exits".

Thinking that this is the start of what might be an arguement, I avert my eyes and hunker down a little lower in my seat.

"Where you from?" the old crust asks his seatmate. "Leeds", I hear her say, following by a string of village, river and other landmark locators. "Oh, is that near ..?." the conversation continues. "Have you ever been to....

I'm surprised that in such a small country, there is so much geography, and that origins appear to be so important to understanding who each other is.

Credentials established, the conversation turns warm and meanders through music, performers seen, family, jobs (he's a busker, she's a retired teacher). By the time they part, they sound like they've known each other for years. And perhaps, having placed each other in time and geography, they have.