Mount up!

It was Red Nose Day on Friday and someone at work had come up with the idea of having a Formal Friday where we all had to dress up in suits etc. The idea being that everyone contributed a small amount of money (at least £3 per picture) in exchange for taking part and the proceeds would go to Comic Relief, the BBC's charity. Usually most folk at the office wear jeans and tee shirts so this meant a much bigger change to the atmosphere than in some offices, especially as a number of people went a bit over the top and wore tuxedos or evening gowns.

I felt I should be true to my national heritage and so I rented an RCMP uniform and charged people an extra £1 to get their picture taken with the mountie. This was a grand scheme as many ladies in particular were eager to get their picture taken with me and many of them had dressed exquisitely. I felt a bit like a prostitute, but at least a very classy one with well-groomed clients, and definitely a prostitute with a heart of gold - it comes with the mountie outfit.

I took public transport to work that day which was an interesting experience. It's a 25 minute walk from my house to the tube station and almost everyone I encountered along the way made eye contact with me and smiled. Many people commented on how fine I looked or enquired after the presence and well-being of my horse. Several small children in particular were delighted to make my acquaintance.

However, once I entered the tube station it was as if I became invisible. Almost no one noticed me at all. It was an extreme manifestation of the staunch London tube-blindness which allows Londoners to co-exist with all manner of alien beings. Based on my mountie experiences, I'm pretty sure I could travel several laps around the circle line buck-naked without anyone noticing. I certainly think I could have got away with taking a horse with me.

There would have been some practical difficulties, of course. I realised when my father visited that London tubes make no allowances for people with minor infirmities like bad knees. And the planners certainly didn't design the system to make it easy to ride around it on horseback. The ceilings are far too low; there are too many steep steps and narrow escalators, and there is marked shortage of decent pastureland. Still, if I could find away around these practical difficulties, I am confident no one would notice the horse, or at least comment on it.

It's a shame, really. A horse would have added greatly to the verisimilitude of my costume. And in addition to charging people to take my picture, I could have offered pony rides.

My contribution to Comic Relief was quite modest (about £20), but overall, with the formal-wear charge and a bake sale and a rather bizarre auction of donated items the department managed to raise a total of more than £1000.