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An unexpected delight after the inter-dimensional misery suck-fest that was Clapham North. We are mightily spoilt for choice of things to muck about posing with in the cheeriest of ticket halls decked out in cricketing motifs. Anyone with a passing knowledge of Douglas Adams might find this tasteless to alien visitors, but we giggle and prat about matching up actions with the cricketers in the tiling.
Looking at these pictures now, I am suddenly aware of just how many cameras there are. Perhaps this is because Bad People Want my Shuffle
From the platform, you'd never have guessed that such a fun ticket hall was just above. In the lift, the backing to an advertising panel has been scratched into. I find the pattern appealing, like the wax pictures I did at school wear you overlaid black crayon over a base of coloured crayon and scratched into it to reveal the rainbow colours underneath.
Outside trees are black scribble against the lead sky, but there are signs of Spring around the corner as cherry blossom explodes into bloom. I post tubwhore postcards...
