DANNY WALLACE IS A MAN

But hes still learning some of lifes hardest lessons

Only in t is ShortL

Smoking and resting your feet on seats is allowed on GNER, right?

The problem with bumping into an old friend on a train

he last of the snow has gone and all that is left is the slush on my shoe. Its still a mercilessly cold day, so I am grateful and thankful and happy to be riding the Underground, where the winds are warm and the carriage smells of fried chicken. Im heading into town to buy a new printer cartridge and my mind is elsewhere as the Tube arrives at Holborn, but as I step off another man steps on and my mind is jolted. I recognise him. Its Frank! Frank, from where I used to work! Frank! I say, turning. The man turns to face me. He looks testy and like hes in a hurry, but its Frank all right! Good old Frank! Good old Frank from where I used to work! Its Danny! I say, and he smiles, and says, Oh! Yeah! How are you? And then theres the beep-beep-beep to let us know the doors are closing, and I say, Im good and you? which is a terrible mistake, as now Franks faced with a choice: does he just nod and then wave and say goodbye, or does he jump off the train and answer me properly? He jumps off the train, squeezing through the doors as they close.

Im very well! he says, the train moving away behind him. Well, that was nice. Now well have a little chat before the next one arrives, in I look up at the board. Nine minutes. Nine minutes? Since when do trains take nine minutes? Oh my God, I think. Ive delayed him by nine minutes! Now I have to talk to him for nine minutes! And not just talk to him entertain him!

Or girlfriend! I say. I suddenly realise I dont know Frank very well. Why had I acted so excited to see him? Id probably only met him five times before, and that was 10 years ago, and now Id tricked him into getting off the Tube to have a bad conversation. Shes fine, he says, but Ive already forgotten what I asked him. I glance at the board. It still says nine minutes. How can it still say nine minutes? What can I say that lasts nine minutes? But then Frank picks up the slack. So where are you on your way to? he asks. Oh! I say, and Im pleased, as I know this. Im off to buy a printer cartridge! Franks face falls. I search my mind for anecdotes about printer cartridges, but the only ones Ive got are too rude. Probably from Ryman, I say. Or another place. My black one has run out. I use that one the most. The board now says eight minutes. This is good. Were getting somewhere. Some of the colour ones run out quickly too, I add. Like the pink one but thats weird, as I never print in pink. I look at the board again, but theres no way it can be seven minutes yet. Well, anyway, good to see you, says Frank, and although Im relieved because hes winding things up, Im embarrassed as Im being dismissed. And not only that its implied that Frank would rather have eight minutes on his own than eight minutes talking about printer cartridges. But then something weird happens. He turns and walks off. Him not me.

I have to come up with nine minutes worth of stuff. I cant sustain that level of entertainment!
I smile at Frank. So I say, in a jaunty voice. How have you been? Very well, he says, and smiles. I kick myself. I had only just asked him how he is, and now Ive asked how hes been. What next? How he expects to be? Nine minutes! For the love of God, I have to come up with nine minutes worth of stuff! I cant sustain that level of high-octane entertainment! And how is your wife? I try. My wife? he says. He is pretending that he is exactly where he meant to be, even though he knows I know he is supposed to be waiting for the train. He is saving me the embarrassment of walking off by doing it for me. But now I dont know what to do. He has walked off in the direction Im supposed to be going. And now I cant go that way in case I bump into him again. So I wait seven minutes, and when Franks train arrives, I wait for the doors to open, and I step onboard.

BRITAINS DOGS HAVE TALENT

PH OTO G R A PHS: KO BA L , ISTO CK PH OTO.C O M

WORDS OF WISDOM
A cat may look at a king! a wise man once said. But was he really all that wise? Or was he just a man watching a cat watching a king? And why was he so blas about being near a king? Were cats banned from looking at kings and this wise man an advocate of cats rights? Or, more likely, was he not actually that wise? I dunno. These are all the questions I have this week.

If you ask me, puppies get away with far too much before theyre expected to contribute meaningfully to society. Sure, theyre still in training for proper jobs such as bomb disposal, drug location and sheep manoeuvres, but this is still not a satisfying use of taxpayers money. Which is why I was delighted when my friend sent me this picture of her puppy, which she has trained to tell the time by weighing it. This was sent just before four oclock. At last, a puppy pulling its weight.

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