If you ever want to see the real world from a different angle other than watching the news then I suggest spending a whole day on the bus network of London, or for that matter any city at all. Once the angry teethgrinding commuters and the future staff of Boots and Carphone Warehouse have threatened themselves off to their respective destinations there is left a gloaming patina, a residue barely noticed or cared about: the daytime bus user.

With more space to look around after the morning crush you can see them, like a feint outline of old borders viewed from a plane or a visual distant echo from some vivid dream you once had, seemingly faded and mishapen people preambling uncomfortably from one stop to the next on mysterious errands, that no matter how much you strutnise their apparell or bodily gestures you just can't work out whether they're off to the supermarket or about to embark on a world climbing tour. BUT at the same time there is something reassuringly despondent that there are people in life worse off that yourself. Or is there?

Maybe its just that major cities are full of semi-permanent idlers: the man-made fabric-clad foot soldiers of the modern world beetling away during the day at seemingly pointless activities. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not putting these people down or laughing from my solid gold emospace castle, but I always find it sobering when you see an area or its population for what it really is - its the hidden city, almost like its own entity running concurrent with ours, a sort of visual parrallel universe sponsored by Ocean Finance.

I don't really know what my point it here, but I just wanted to point out how in our celebratory city lives it feels like most people young or successful or busy are just living out loud and some people are not and I just can't really fathom why. This also applies to why they are always on busses between 9.50am and 3.20pm