On time this morning, back on the good old 8.16. I'm reminded of the interior design shortcomings as I head for an empty window & middle seat. Schoolboy error. I’m forced into the window seat as a fellow traveller wedges himself into the middle. The heater is on full blast, and the nice, but unyielding, lady opposite has her leg room thank you very much and isn’t about to give me any of it. Her feet may as well have been set in concrete. I kick her (gently) as I try to twist myself into a position that won’t cause a crippling injury, but this lady’s not for budging.
Ideally I would be able to compact myself like one of those nice folding bicycles we sometimes encounter (the Raleigh Tw*t) with a few of the same sharp, unforgiving edges, but unfortunately I can’t. The remainder of the journey is a test of strength for my straining cruciate ligaments, and of absorbency for my shirt. I stagger exhausted onto the Farringdon platform, grateful for the blast of cold air, and head for the comfort of the Met line.
I have a dilemma this evening. I'm meeting some old mates for beer & curry, but its also the FCC Meet the Managers forum at St P. Do I go to St P, and then retrace my steps to our meeting point, thereby eating into beer time? Or do I take the view that Meeting the Managers (again) is likely to increase, rather than alleviate, my frustrations? Think I know which way this is heading.
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