Westbound Picadilly Line/30th Jan 2008/4.37pm

Standing on the platform at Green Park. Man walks towards me with his hand pushed tightly across his nose and mouth. What's he hiding? Is there a bad smell, cracked lips or a bleeding nose? The train comes. He gets on. I get on behind him. I sit and watch where he's going to settle. He tries to sit opposite me between 2 men. The one opposite on my left is fat, red, slightly spotty and wearing beige Chinos. The shiny loafers on his feet and blue tshirt look grubby. His podgy white arm holding an anthology of Agatha Christie's Poirot intrudes into the seat next to him. He is leaning into the free space of the seat next to him and tuts as the man with the hand over his nose and mouth tries to sit down. He doesnt shift and a frustrated look comes over his face. The man with the hand over his nose and mouth decides he doesnt want to/is not allowed to sit there and moves. He settles two seats to my right. I glance sideways at him to see if he has moved his hand yet. He has. I try not to stare but want to see what he was hiding. His nostrils have bloody rings around the edges. He is wanting to touch his nose to see if it's still bleeding but is stopping himself. Did he pick his nose too much? Did someone punch him? Did he try to sit next to the wrong person when there was plenty of other space? Are his social skills lacking? Is he foreign? Is he mentally ill? How can I find out? He taps his leg nervously and it seems as if he's withdrawing into himself. I try to take in as much information about him as possible. A camera would be good now.