So many words. Countless* posts on this blog and so many words blabbered from my mouth.

* Not countless, since I've just put the count in the title of this post, but a lot.


Despite being a man of words, some things seem to defy description. The pile of clothes and belongings lying on the floor of the subway this morning is one such thing. Occasionally you find piles of clothes lying about the place. I'm never quite sure why. An obvious answer is that some rough sleeper has abandoned their possessions for some reason. Another answer might be a drunk person dropping their stuff and not caring. Either way, there's probably a story behind the random piles of stuff you find discarded. It's kind of tragic, and kind of insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Why this particular pile is where it is, and how it came to be is a mystery I don't even want to solve. It's like the mystery of why Bracknell council seem intent on totally closing rather important roads, or the mystery of why I had about 4 horrible traffic jams to defeat on the run into work this morning, or why I totally managed to stuff up yet another attempt to make myself some coffee for the journey into Bracknell today, on a day when I really really needed some coffee. In fact, I haven't even had any coffee since, only some iced tea, which I don't even really like. Mysterious.

To deepen the pile of crap on the floor mystery, try to find out why one of the discarded items is a whoopee cushion. It's possible, and I don't want you snickering at this image, that a rough sleeper was using this cushion to rest their head on to sleep in the subway. I think it would be quite sad and not amusing in anyway, to be sleeping on a whoopee cushion that was gently puffing out comic guff noises as your head bobbed up and down in the night, as the cushion deflated and became more of a mat.

I don't have the answers.

Most days I don't even have the questions.