This piece was part of a project I did for a UCL class on the history of the book. I wanted to explore how much people’s lives impact the texts they annotate — I also annotated a book of poems from the London Underground as the characters I created. Spelling and grammar were according to the Brits. Here are some of my favourite stories from the project:

Story 2: Tim Robbins

Tim hoped the reflection in the Tube doors wasn’t accurate. Was his tie really so crooked? Should he have put on a tie to begin with?

His flat mate, Stan, had told him not to. Said he’d look like a business wanker. ‘But I am a business wanker’, Tim insisted. Stan said he saw no reason to have her learn that on the first date.

Jessa had said the tie was a good move. It made him look ‘So cute!’ she said, though apparently not cute enough for Jessa.

Cologne was probably a bad move as well. Jessa said this girl works in a gallery in Brixton. Do girls who work in Brixton like cologne?

Tim wasn’t sweating but he felt like he was. He felt his tie tightening around his neck as the car filled up at Waterloo. The Banker Wanker, that’s what this girl will call him when she talks to Jessa. Jessa will just laugh and say, ‘He’s so cute, though!’

Tim pulled at his tie. Is cute meant to be an insult nowadays?

He took a drink from his water bottle, and of course it went down the wrong pipe. A stranger with blue hair asked if he was okay. Her voice was a bit soft, kind of like Jessa’s. Tim caught his breath. ‘Yeah, I’m er, I’m fine’, he said, closing his water bottle. He looked down. ‘Hey’, he said, ‘does this tie make me look like a banker wanker?’

The stranger laughed. ‘Maybe a bit, but in an okay way. It’s kind of cute’. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small white leaflet (‘Well of course she’s crazy’, Tim figured) and said ‘Hey, would you mind helping me out with something?’

Story 3: Jakey Feld

Jakey knew – don’t ask how, he just knew – that if he sent Marissa a note in Geometry, Mrs Everett would open it and read it out loud. That’s why he chose not to tell Marissa today. Once school’s over for the day, there’s no point anyway. Better wait for tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Jakey would tell her how much he loved her hair – the way the one curl in the front always wandered over her eyes, and the way she pushed it out of her face every time she laughed. He would write to her that he was deeply, madly in love with her. He was sure of it.

And she knew his name. He was almost sure of that.

No, there was no reason to tell her anything now. He didn’t have her number anyway. He could message her on Facebook. She had accepted his friend request last month. He felt special, being one of her 1,972 Facebook friends. He just wanted to be more than that… More than Facebook friends to begin with. Then, you know, more than friends.

Jakey texted his mum to ask what was for dinner, then remembered he didn’t have service underground. He hoped it was lasagna. His mum made really good lasagna. Jakey reached into his bag for crisps, and it fell onto the floor. A woman with a bright blue wig reached down to pick the crisps up and handed them back.

‘Thanks!’ Jakey said, ‘I’m starving.’

‘Ah, the early evening stomach grumble’, the woman laughed, then she took out a thin white book. ‘Sorry, would you by any chance mind helping me out with something?’

Story 4: Jessica Fried

All things considered, this may not have been the best decision.

Jessica squirmed on the Picadilly Line, shoving her suitcases closer. The other passengers glared at her, but said nothing. They were definitely glaring. Is this that whole thing about English people being polite? Or was it passive aggressive?

Heathrow was kind of a disaster, but that couldn’t have been helped. Jessica had packed for an entire semester, and her bags seemed to have gotten heavier as she wandered hopelessly around the airport. Heathrow is way too big, she decided. These things should have limits. Doesn’t England have another airport?

Jessica felt very alone, but this may have been a good thing. Maybe that’s what this semester was for – a break from social dependency, from feeding off of others’ stresses. Although, you know, maybe she would still meet someone… a guy… or just brand new friends to have adventures with, to travel with and refer to as ‘my friends from England’ when she got back. Jessica adjusted the straps on her backpack. Six months is a long time away…

When she looked up, she saw a woman with blue hair smiling at her. Was that a thing here? The book had said Brits avoid eye contact on the Tube at all costs.

The woman with blue hair held out a thin white book.

‘Hi’, she said. ‘Would you mind helping me out with something?’

Story 5: Richard Steveson

‘Rick’, his boss had said, in a tone that Richard assumed was meant to be helpful, ‘as my terrible college girlfriend once told me – and, please understand, I went out with her twin sister too – “It’s not you. It’s us”’.

Sure, it wasn’t the greatest work environment. His boss was a crackhead (Richard’s educated guess), and he had never dreamed of becoming a customer service representative for a women’s shoe company when he was a boy. But a salary was a salary, and now it wasn’t.

He didn’t have to tell the kids. They were too young to understand anyway. There just wouldn’t be an Xbox for Christmas. Richard would blame Santa.

It was all rather pointless, wasn’t it? Just going from job to job, none of them enjoyable. Because it wasn’t like his next job was going to be as a safari director or something, Richard reasoned as he imagined his son riding on an elephant to school.

But he needed a change, somehow. Maybe he would get a piercing. Or get a tattoo!

Richard knew, deep down, that his tattoo would be more like one of those hearts with ‘mum’ written inside it than a set of skull and crossbones.

There were plenty of kids on the Underground with oddly-coloured hair, he noticed as he looked around. Maybe that! He fixated on a young woman with bright blue hair – How would he look with blue hair? – until she definitely noticed. Whoops.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t staring, I just lost focus for a moment’, Richard rambled.

‘Not a problem’, she said. ‘I think blue would suit you just fine. Just, would you mind doing me a small favor?’

Story 6: Sophie Lang

Professor Sophie Lang had had a long day. An enjoyable day, given, but long. Her students, well… didn’t care much for linguistics and translation. But Sophie cared, quite a bit in fact. Sophie loved how each word had its own unique history, like individual people on the street. How when words are put together, they bond and clash like couples and families and exes, creating unique stories with the unique cultures from which they stem.

Professor Lang was excited, sure, but it seemed her enthusiasm wasn’t as contagious as she might have hoped. Her students were doing okay. Their marks were fine, and she didn’t feel like she was marking too easily. Yet they kept nodding off during lecture, and Sophie felt that couldn’t be good. Was she like this as a student?

No, definitely not. Sophie was always jumping up in her seat to ask and answer questions. She had learned German, Latin, French, even ancient Aramaic – anything she could learn to help her understand language.

Bribery, from the Middle English ‘briberie’, theft. Also from Middle French, to mean begging.

Maybe she would bring biscuits? Food usually worked.

Professor Lang noticed a young woman approach her, and she hoped she wasn’t supposed to recognize her. Professor Lang had too many students to keep track.

‘Hi, professor’, the young woman began. ‘May I ask you to help me with something?’