There were two punk kids lounging on the train seat behind me. You know the type — baggy black t-shirts, chains hanging off their belts, spiky hair, skateboards hooked under their arms. They looked about thirteen and fifteen years old.

The older kid’s phone rang. He picked up.

“Hi. Yeah. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Soon, I reckon… Yeah, he’s right here.” He chucked the phone to the younger kid.

“Yeah, hi. Nah, we can get there ourselves. Nah, it’s cool. We’ll just take the train down. Okay. Love you, mum. Bye.”

Love you, mum?

That was great — almost the last thing I expected to come out of his mouth. And he said it in such an off-hand, casual manner that it felt like it was his standard farewell greeting.

Declaring parental affection in a public place — crazy kids!