Winter in the city

This evening, on the train home from work, I was subjected to some of the most tuneless accordion-playing that it's ever been my misfortune to hear. I'm not always in the most receptive of moods for music imposed on me on public transport, as I'm usually listening to some myself, and the fact that it was accordion music just made it worse. I really dislike the accordion, and although on occasion it might sound vaguely charming in a touristy Parisian setting, this was definitely not one of those occasions. It sounded awful, and I sat there hoping and praying that the train wasn't going to make any unscheduled stops in the middle of nowhere, thus forcing me to listen to yet more Viennese waltzes and cheesy covers of Edith Piaf songs. Thankfully it didn't, and I finally managed to make it to journey's end without sticking any sharp objects in my eye.

You're thinking: "And the point of the story is...?" Well, none, really, except that Alex Belth had almost the polar opposite of my experience on the New York subway. Check out his fine post over at Bronx Banter.

Now, Alex's writing is great, but it unfortunately couldn't help make today's accordion-playing any more tuneful. However, it did help put the whole thing in a little perspective, and that is never a bad thing.

Here endeth today's lesson.