My Saviour

26 Nov

The trains were fucked this evening but instead of battling at the normal time, Julie sent me a text to see if I fancied meeting for a catch up and so I jumped at the chance. Massive issues because of a fire at London Bridge signal box so all trains were delayed through there and then they closed that station anyway. I read some horror stories about waiting thirty minutes to get onto a DLR at Bank but I have just started moving now and it is eight. Thank fuck for Julie and the catch up. I know I have a bus to get from lovely Woolwich but the ipod is on drowning out the sound of fuckwittery and I can smile. The emails have been coming through but only five emails in all to cover the complete melee that was the trains this evening. Following on from the money spunking mention this morning, I saw two policemen in total who were hovering at Bank. That was it. Meanwhile, on the mean streets I pound every day the usual abuse was hurled at an idiot tailgating me on the pavement who then rode through a red light as I asked if the pavement had gotten in his way and all the while he didn’t have any lights on his bike. Wanker. The cold has brought another fashion – riding long with their hands in their pockets, because that is safe. I saw two or three idiots doing that today. On the DLR and I can see a man wearing a leather jacket, gloves, scarf and shorts. Yes, shorts. What a twat. I think I am going to post now so I can stare out the window a bit more and imagine quite how cold the shorted man is right now. His top lip is warm though, because it is Movember and he has a hairy slug draped across it.

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