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Friday, March 07, 2008

"Here, please, after you, no, I insist.."

On the Piccadilly Line this morning, sitting sideways, I looked up from my book to find my eyes adjacent to the midriff of a young woman and right in the middle of one of the most pressing social questions of the day.
Is that midriff pleasantly rounded in a manner that Rubens would have appreciated? Or is it three months pregnant?
Do I allow my eyes to travel further north to see if she's looking at me in a meaningful way suggesting that I should give up my seat to her?
Or, knowing that I'm due to get off soon, do I sit tight and keep reading?
And what do I do if the bloke next to me makes the decision that she is pregnant and gives up his seat to her?
And why am I suddenly really tense and reading the same line again and again?
I suggest a system of badges. Possibly a huge rosette saying "Hooray! I'm pregnant!"
Or would these go the way of disabled parking stickers and end up being appropriated by women who just fancy taking the weight off their feet?
Or maybe men could wear a badge saying "Will stand if need-be. Please ask".