Harassment on the 328

Yesterday I decided to be one of the 'ladies who brunch' and set off to meet my friend Sally and a friend of hers for pancakes (I still haven't quite kicked my New York habits - although weirdly, a solid diet of pancakes, burritos and pizza seems to have caused me to lose weight - take that Dr Atkins).

I guess in one way I deserved what happened next. Not at all because I was wearing a rather skimpy summer dress (perfectly demure though, I do wear it to work as well). But because as I boarded the bus I observed a sign saying 'Alcohol banned on public transport from June 1st'. Fat lot of good that'll do, I thought to myself. Surely banning teenagers from stabbing innocent travellers would be a more effective, I scoffed to myself. Stupid new mayor. I had tempted the gods of irony, and they were about to wreak their revenge.

I got on the bus and sat next to the window, with my self protection weapon (new ipod to replace one stolen in a rather unfortunate pub incident) firmly wedged in my ears.

As I stared out the window, a large man reeking of beer pressed up against me. At first I thought he was a bit overweight and shifted into the glass - any closer to the glass and I would have had to merge into it, Terminator-style. As I turned up my appropriately feminist Swedish rock, it slowly dawned on me that the guy was leaning into me on purpose. As his podgy flesh threatened to spill onto my lap, I also noticed he was saying something that even my beloved Swedes couldn't completely drown out. 'Hey sexy lady,' he said. To my horror I felt a hand on my knee - from yet another drunken man across from me. 'Hey baby, what's your problem?' he said. The ipod's magic circle of protection had obviously weakened with the onslaught. I turned and looked the guy in the eye as fiercely as I could, and considered telling him that my problem was I didn't find exceedingly drunk, overweight, 40 year old men particularly attractive at 11.30am on a Sunday morning. Or in fact any morning. Make that ever.

Heart beating fast, I turned back to the window. 'Let's just take her,' I heard one say to the other. That was it. With oblivious Londoners staring unhelpfully at me, probably in fear of being stabbed, I pushed my way through the two men and down into the middle section of the bus, praying they wouldn't follow me. Happily they didn't. They were so drunk they'd probably forgotten the thread of their conversation two minutes later. But I realised my hands were shaking, and I had to fight back tears and I realised that Londoners really don't care about anyone else. 'I bet that wouldn't have happened in New York,' I thought bitterly. And then I added to myself 'And that new alcohol ban will be brilliiant!' To be honest though, these guys rolled out of the pub into the bus. Ok irony gods, lesson learnt.

Today in sympathy my friend in Oz emailed me his own harassment story - much more endurable I think. He says: 'I got yelled at on the train this morning because i was reading a Richard Dawkins book (curiousity.. never read any of his stuff). an old lady objected to my disgusting ways and didn't like seeing atheism flaunted "in front of innocent school children" in such a vile manner...hahahah'

The day they ban Richard Dawkins on public transport, is truly the day I give up hope for this country. But I think I'd rather take on little old ladies any day.