Ideal, in every respect but one

Back to work this afternoon, and the 'stay out of Zone 1 and pay half the fare' route to 'worktown' I now often use threw up one of those bittersweet moments I have no doubt any boylover would recognise. I spent 22 minutes, give or take, on the tube sitting opposite an achingly cute boy, 13-ish, a sort of a mashup of DBJ and (former) 'next door but one cutie', with a beautiful smile reminiscent of my niece at that age (no, I didn't harbour desires for her, but she did have a beautiful smile). And he gave the impression of having quite a bit more about him - the banter he was sharing with his two friends made it obvious that he was bright, and imaginative, and just fun. Ideal. Except, of course, that he could, would never be my friend, still less anything more. And, equally certainly, he'll be another 'ghost', never to be seen again. Once more, I feel like the pauper boy, nose pressed against the window of the toyshop whose delights he'll never be able to reach out and touch.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B