Sorry to any teenagers about to read this, but most of the time I'm not wild about teenagers on the tube. Although this usually applies to packs of teenagers, not groups, London teenagers don't hang around in groups but in packs. They're usually too loud, they're usually giggling or kissing their teeth, they're usually taking up too much space, they're usually in the way and they're usually on their way to somewhere far more exciting than me, which is the main reason why I hate them.
But sometimes I love them. I love their humour. I love their youth. I love the fact that they don't give a shit. I love their clothes. I love their hair. When they're by themselves, I love them more. I love the fact that they are just a little, just a tad, and just a bit shy and unconfident and not quite sure what they're doing amongst the commuting grown ups. Take the girl below, her trainers, her combat mini skirt, the way she's curled up in the corner, the way her feet are crossed and most of all................
her truly excellent folder with the papier mache red leather clad boobies stuck on one of the tarty looking women on her college collage.
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