Unwittingly and unsurprisingly (yet fully wittingly) late for work today. Not on purpose, but I’m hardly blameless either, I must buy a bed of nails, or an alarm clock or something
I’ve not seen ticket inspectors on the 73 bus for a while so I’ve gotten really rather slack in my walking to work rhetoric, and have in fact been bussing without a ticket.
Today is no different, I am late and tired, the idea of doing that slightly panicky quick walk all the way to an office i dislike fills be with yearnings for my bed. So I board the bus.
The traffic is very bad. I’m on the Pentonville Road and the bus just isn’t moving. I am getting frustrated.
Then I remember, the last time the bus got stuck here when I was on it was 7th July.
Those small bombs that went off
I realsie in all likelihood it’s happening again, London is closed. I suppose I should just feel fear and worry.
But I actually think that I can go back to bed and have a good excuse not to go to work.
Then the bus moves, turns out it’s just gasworks at Kings Cross. No bombs.
I’m slightly pissed off. I must be a horrible callous person with a cold dead heart inside…
I get to work late, but still earlier than my boss. So people didn’t not die in vain.