More tube. Once in a while a blind man gets on at Oxford Circus or thereabouts at about 9.30am, then travels westbound on the Central Line. Every time I've seen him, he engages in conversation with whoever is sitting in the door-side seat and questions them relentlessly about their day, their work, will it be a good day, finally asking what their name is before he gets off the train. The person in question is usually happy to chat for a minute or two, then gets increasingly uncomfortable as he persists. The person looks around helplessly, tries to concentrate on their book. One time, one person got up, got off, then went into the next carriage. I wonder what I'd do.