Coffee grrr

To set the scene:

Walking through Waterloo Station.

Carrying one heavy bag, complete with 400pg novel (dammit, it shall be read), a SLR digital camera, hideous amount of girly must-haves, my reading specs and other things which contribute to my daily life.

In my other hand, I am holding a 'coffee'. You will know why coffee is in inverted comma's, as from a previous post of my love of coffee and its importance in making it right. More appropriate term would be coffee flavoured water.

Ticket goes through machine. Casually glance at the non-ticket holders getting busted by the police. Try not to giggle as voices are raised. Giggle anyway.

Feel my hand slightly wet. Brush said hand across my coat and feel coat is slightly wet. Look down. Damn coffee lid has become semi-attached and coffee (which isn't even worth it to begin with) has dripped down my front.

Mind wanders to lunch meeting with friends who I haven't seen in two years. Will they think I've become a tramp who can't feed herself?

Pull out gross tissue from pocket and dab away, leaving lint. Look for bin for stupid coffee though being London and in a train station, damn near impossible.

Avoid stares from people looking perplexed- 'Should I tell her she's wet herself?'

Enter tube station via the stairs and casually bend down and rest my coffee on a ledge. Wipe myself down, feeling less than impressed.

Guilt over littering then see a litter lady and feel better.