Extract 2 - Context
ROSA, 40, OFFICE MANAGER, travels to her office on the bus
Rosa absent-mindedly listened to the conversation going on next to her in the bus shelter. Apparently somebody had kissed somebody and somebody else had seen and told the first somebody’s boyfriend. Understandably, somebody was in a rage about it. Ah to be a schoolgirl again.
The big poster for a breakfast cereal reminded her that she had a banana in her bag. Should she eat it now or on the bus? The bus made up her mind for her as it lumbered into view: black and white rather than the usual red as it had been transformed into a rolling ADIDAS ad. “ADIDAS ad ADIDAS ad ADIDAS ad” she repeated under her breath as fast as she could, enjoying the tangle her tongue found itself in quite quickly.
Leaving the banana for now and reaching for her Oyster card, she shuffled with everybody else towards the door and tapped the reader. Sitting down next to an elderly man dressed in hat, coat and scarf (despite the warm weather) she wondered if he’d mind her eating a fairly ripe banana in his general area.
She thought better of it, and instead settled down for the 30-minute ride to her office. Burrowing in her bag, she pulled out her phone to keep her company and sadly closed the clasp over her banana. As her phone came to life, she hoped desperately that the general chatter and incessant drum beats from too-loud headphones would drown out her rumbling stomach.
GRACE, 30, MARKETING MANAGER, takes taxis to and from meetings
Looking out of the window of the taxi, Grace felt herself powering down. With her last meeting of the day done, she could relax and look forward to her evening. Her eyes glazed over as she thought about what she might do. She’d been in meetings all day, so something active.
She watched the traffic crawl past the window and bikes whizz between the mainly stationary vehicles, crossing lanes and sometimes even mounting the pavement to gain some kind of advantage in the race they were apparently in. She watched as they ignored the red lights of a pedestrian crossing, barely making it over before the two advancing armies of walkers met and then merged in the middle.
She looked at the taxi next to her, wrapped in a colourful image of a chorus line. Had she seen that show? She wasn’t sure. The bus behind the taxi edged forward as if impatient and she caught the eye of a lady sitting by the window cramming a banana into her mouth. They both looked away embarrassed.
Grace pulled out her copy of Stylist magazine and started flicking through for the umpteenth time that day, but quickly realised she’d find nothing new. Instead she reached for her phone and caught up with her social life. What would the evening bring?