I was quite excited about going to the British Library this afternoon as I knew they had delivered the journal which contained the interview that I was hoping to base my Rasputin film idea on. The Horizon journals from 1967 (they were as old as me, but they didn't look it) came in four hard back parts, tied together with a bow. What amazing revelations was I about to discover?
I was disappointed to find out that the article made no mention of the Yusupov interview at all, but was merely a piece examining Rasputin's reputation and concluding, I think fairly, that the murder story is a bit fishy and that Rasputin was a nicer person than history remembers him to be. I couldn't understand it. The journalist didn't even mention meeting Yusupov. Didn't this idiot know that I would want to write a film about him?
I was a bit perplexed, but reading the introduction to the volume I saw that the interview was mentioned and a few minor details given, but as the journalist felt it'd got nothing useful from it he hadn't bothered to include it. After all this build up that was a bit of an anti-climax. It doesn't mean I can't use this meeting as the hook for my film idea, but it's a pity that there wasn't more there for me.
I did some reading and googling and found a few interesting and useful titbits, working until 7 until deciding to head home.
Having to get the train into London gives me a little taste of what it is like to be a commuter albeit one who goes into work at midday. Even on the 7.42 train home there was standing room only and I found myself standing right next to a man wearing headphones who was sniffing loudly every 20 seconds. Perhaps with his own ears shielded he wasn't aware of the volume and unpleasantness of his sniffs, but everyone else was. I saw another man looking at the sniffer with daggers in his eyes. It really is a most unwelcome and anti-social sound. We're probably all been there at some point, but this snorter seemed to have no shame or concern or even awareness of what he was doing. I hadn't even had that bad a day and by the twentieth sniff I quite wanted to kill him. I would have felt no remorse if the man had collapsed and died right there and then. I'd just have been relieved to have his anti-social mucus out of my earhole. This was only my second day of commuting. I am amazed that more regular travelers don't murder each other in such circumstances.
I thought about saying something to him, but that would have been embarrassing and there was no way to know how he would react to a stranger telling him how to deal with his own liquid snot. So I took the easy route and tweeted about it instead. Which was away of addressing the issue without coming to blows (of either kind).
I said that if he didn't get off at St Albans then he was going to die. But although he did check his phone I don't think he was one of my followers - I attract a better class of people. He probably follows Ricky Gervais.
I added "Alternatively blow your nose if you want to live," which I suggested would have been a less good line for The Terminator, but maybe one that more people could identify with. It'd be a different kind of film.
Luckily he did get off at St Albans so his life was spared and I didn't have to spend 30 years in prison.
I had tweeted fairly safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't see what I was saying about him, but did think about the one in a thousand chance that he might read it and recognise me and punch me anyway (and maybe I'd deserve it for addressing the issue in such a cowardly way), but funnily enough the woman who had been standing behind me, who had also just got out, then tweeted to say, "Was stood right behind you thinking the same thing. Was tempted to sacrifice my socks to stuff them up his nostrils." It made me laugh both that others had clearly felt the same, but been too cautious to complain and that someone who followed me, was in this case, standing right behind me, reading what I was thinking. That's quite scary as well as quite cool. At least the carriage was secretly united in loathing of this selfish man - though none of us had the balls (or the tissue) to offer him a tissue. Someone tweeted me to tell me that their husband is actually not physically able to blow his nose, which is not something I'd heard of before, but I don't think this was what was happening in my carriage tonight - there was no sense of apology to his mucus juggling.
So this blog is dedicated to all those of you who have to commute on a daily basis - the polite and thoughtful ones at least - I don't envy you at all and admire your restraint.
