Mr Peter Dearlove
Tall nervous black man gets on at Embankment. Brown leather jacket hangs off narrow shoulders. Green jeans, green socks, wispy moustache, butterfly-delicate ankles. Lopes apologetically to his seat then twitches in place. Charming, childlike and disjointed all at once, like an innocent Martian, or Charlie Chaplin. Keeps clearing his throat.
Has returned from Canada, where he accepted the Toronto Blessing. He walked straight from Toronto airport to the church. It was small, ordinary and that seemed right. Peter had to line up for most of a day, but when he got inside, all was as promised. He talked in tongues, thrashed on the floor, and Jesus came and sat with him and held his hand. Jesus said to him that he was to love everyone and everyone would love and forgive him.
What he is doing or thinking
Peter blesses everyone he walks past. He thinks he is about to bear witness, and speak about God's love, but something holds him back. Wanting to speak is an ache inside. Why is he so silent? It feels like shame. The man across from him looks forbidding, the girl next to him is too pretty. Perhaps God will unleash his tongue when the right time comes.
He wishes there were someone here with the Blessing. The Blessing sings like the universe. People with the Blessing hum its tune. Peter may not have a job, but he knows why he is on this train: to bear witness.
So he keeps clearing his throat, and is swept on, to Elephant and Castle.
Car 4 map