I'm stood on a platform at Wimbledon waiting for a train to zone 6. It's a chilly March morning. 8 degrees Celsius if you must know.
On the platform across from me, an extremely fit and toned man ambles along. I can tell this because he is not wearing a top and I can see his six pack with my own eyes. He's wearing some quite loose jogging bottoms that start just above the belly button, and that taper to an elasticated halt just above the ankle. Socks and trainers complete the look. Essentially he looks like he has just stepped out of a martial arts dojo.
In his right hand he has a guitar in a soft black guitar case, which sort of makes him look unthreatening. That coupled with his leisurely pace.
At the end of the platform there is a waiting room which he disappears behind. I think about wandering up there to see what he's up to but he just about comes to the edge of its wall and obliges me with a glimpse.
He casually starts doing handstands against the wall of the waiting room. His legs arc upwards, straight at the knee, perfectly balanced, right up to the wall. He holds it for a few seconds before returning to earth.
My train arrives just as he starts doing another one.