Categories: uncategorized
Date: 16 November 2005 21:07:11
No I'm not pregnant, I'm just cross. And I eat spicy things when I'm cross.
I've been walking from work to Liverpool St station most evenings since the summer as a campaign to get fit and other dull things. Came out of work this evening in a fairly lightweight coat and no hat, and was shivering violently within the space of about five minutes. In a sudden fit of common sense (yes, I do have them occasionally), I decided that freezing ot death on the walk home would be a Bad Plan, and got on the Tube.
Aieeeeeeee.
I had genuinely forgotten how frankly ghastly the rugby scrum on the eastbound Central Line platforms is at not long past five on a weekday evening. I had my foot stepped on twice, and got elbowed in the ribs by one particularly determined lady. Fortunately, she was on the side that had my bag containg the current Divine Office volume and The Daily Missal, so she was worse off than me. The only good point of the journey was managing to get a seat straight away. Still not quite sure how that happened.
Got home and my normal route to the supermarket was blocked off by ominous quantities of "Police Line - Do Not Cross" tape, so I went to the other supermarket and decided, in my wisdom, that a bus home would be a good idea (I had some fairly heavy shopping and am quite attached to my fingers, all things considered). I ended up sat next to someone who insisted on telling me, in a loud voice, all about the habits of the local bus routes, despite me having headphones in ears and music on.
Perhaps I should have enquired if he had bathed in the blood of any baby farm animals recently?