When I was living and working full-time in London, I would always grab The London Paper for my dreaded commute.

I would bury my nose in it for most of the trip, just like all the other thousands of people surrounding me in the suffocating tube car. Except everyone around me (and I’m talking cheek-to-cheek crampage here) were all trying to make their way home without even the slightest glimpse of another person.

I, on the other hand, would sometimes sneak a cheeky peak.

The one thing I looked forward to most about that commute (no, it wasn’t the groping by strangers), was TLP’s look at lost love connections.

In every edition, buried near the back past the funny columns and latest celebrity spottings and gossip, was a little section known as ‘Love Struck’. 

I quickly became obsessed with this section and found myself going straight for it the moment the free paper was in my hands. 

People ’struck’ by a fellow commuter were compelled by their instant attraction and subsequent missed opportunity to write or text the paper with a description of the encounter. All based on the sheer hope that their lovely love interest would read it and get in touch.

I would always pick my favourite of the day and imagine I was the recipient of the anonymous love text.

“Saw you on the Jubilee line Thursday evening. You, red hair, snuck a cheeky peak at me. Me, in the bow tie, awe-struck by your beauty couldn’t muster the courage to say ‘hi’ before you changed lines.”

*sigh*

I’d gasp after reading the entry and look up at the packed car. People nearby would hear the gasp but ignore it completely. 

All but one gentleman. A rather handsome Hugh Jackman-type, clad in a bow tie, who had noticed the girl he had been dreaming about since he last saw her on the same line just a few days earlier reading the entry he had sent to the paper.

!!!!

Our eyes would lock. He would grin. I would blush.

When suddenly a man beside the ginger, known only as the masked groper, swoops in to cop a feel. 

Hugh would barrel his way through the crowd and rescue the redhead from the perv in a flash of testosterone-driven heroics.

Later, we’d celebrate our new love with too many pints at Gordon’s.

It’s the fairytale story Disney movies are based on, I know.

Live in London and interested to see who is dreaming about you? Visit Love Struck here 

Good luck!

 

Tags: General Lori-ness //