I put my ticket into the barrier at the station. A small hand reached out to grab it as it was thrown out of the barrier. Instinctively, I pushed the small hand away. I turned my head.
"It's not funny!" I said to the grandmother and went to get my train.
Bizarre behaviour. The child was about three and was standing on an elevated part of the barrier structure as grandmother stood a few feet away grinning inanely in adoration of the brat.
I can't imagine there was much risk of any danger to the child. I don't suppose he was sub-contracted by the ticket touts to nick travelcards for resale. Still, I hit the child. Not exactly deliberately, but I had paid nearly a thousand pounds for my travelcard just last week. Could I have been up on a charge of assault or child abuse, sacked from work and my reputation in tatters?
If that behaviour is tolerated when the child is three, who knows what he will be doing at twelve.
On a slightly related note, I am increasingly haunted by something I witnessed at Streatham hill a few weeks back. I think I was too traumatised at the time even to blog about it.
I was doing the usual shuffle up the crowded stairs, walking on the extreme left. On my right was a middle-aged bearded bloke, an academic or government scientist by the look of him. To the right of him, coming down was another man, ugly and tall, yabbering into his mobile, displaying too much gold jewellery. I don't know what happened, but the man coming down landed a firm and loud punch on the jaw of the bearded man. Bearded man lurched and half fell against me. I fell against the wall, banging my elbow.
I tried to forget about it but it's coming back to haunt my dreams. I can't remember when it was, only that I was coming from Croydon via Balham and it was hot. And I was early.
I think the bearded man must have insulted the pride of the drug-dealing man for having the temerity to want to walk up stairs. Tough, there were two or three hundred other people doing the same, and the train had already departed.