On Sunday afternoon, after Church services but before playing Dungeons and Dragons with the UCL Knitting Society, I went to Euston station in search of a Sainsbury’s to sate my appetite. I wanted to purchase a sandwich with perhaps a vegetable to be eaten raw on the side, but I found no such luck. Instead, I wandered upon The Pasty Shop, which I could only assume sold pasties. But, perhaps aptly, the shop also sold coffee in addition to pasties.
I had previously had a pasty at the UCL Student Center while doing a problem set for my only economics course for the semester, Issues in Development. Spending the majority of the day in front of a screen attempting to use basic R commands into Stata tends to do that to me. I had purchased a chicken and leek pasty then, which had thoroughly filled me with a desire to pass out upon finishing. As someone who values green vegetables in my life, I found my first attempt of eating a pasty to be as expected. After all, I was eating a buttered crust with a buttered interior with some extraneous pieces of meat and vegetables.
My second attempt had largely been reminiscent of my first attempt. I had purchased a vegetable pasty from The Pasty Shop because it had been £1 cheaper than the meat-filled alternatives. The taste was very similar regardless of sprinkle of corn found inside. The crust flaked in my hands, but the juices inside soaked into the crust and onto the paper bag where I held it. I had previous finished a Mars bar, which had been given to me upon entry to Church, and I had not been too hungry. Bloomsbury Fitness had been nearby, and I decided to go to the gym because of its proximity. But, because I had made the trek to Euston station, and made the sunk cost of about hundred steps, I decided to eat a pasty anyways.
A pigeon dawdled in front of my feet as I ate my pasty. The atrium of Euston station had been quite open and significantly warmer than the outside. I would wonder why any pigeon would prefer to spend time outside when there exists such an ideal depository of leftover found dispersed throughout the ground here. The area around the trash can was littered with half-filled bags of potato chips. I would imagine part of the reason is sex. There does not seem to exist enough pigeons indoors to create a cohesive social community for mating. But, as I have no background knowledge of pigeon ecology, I could be completely wrong. In reflection, I am probably completely wrong.
A couple of loud boys collectively sung a song outside. Some other boys, who I assumed were not affiliate with the group of boys who started singing, joined in. I assumed it was some sort of sports team chant, but I could be completely mistaken. A cover of “Falling in Love With You” played from the sound system of the station and over the sound of their chants outside. But, underneath all the music, the sounds of living continued. The cash registers opened with the signature clink of coins hitting from the inertia. The paper bags rustled with the motion of people grasping for the food within. The snickering of an old couple walking past me.
In the midst of writing this, the occupants of the seats around me have been replaced at least three times. I am merely sitting down to eat and write. My pasty had long been gone, leaving me only with the metal against my butt. The other individuals in the station have trains to catch, but I do not. I will leave the station in the same direction I had come, which is through the main entrance. I cannot say the same about the others who entered the station. It is 1:51 PM, and I am waiting, but not for a train. Alas, I think it is my time to part.
I found the Sainsbury I had been looking for upon exit.