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Ahh, Easter, temperature in the 20s, and even Birks opens the windows to let a bit of fresh air into Lewisham Towers.
Of course, getting the alarm to go off at 5.30 when you have only managed to get to sleep at 2.30 isn't exactly a joy, but it's quite nice to leave the house to a temperature that doesn't have the capability to cause exiles from Siberia to complain about the cold.
And it was a return to the gym, too, albeit with a relatively gentle workout. Ah yes, swings, we get back into them.
But I did think that it was a bit off to have people checking my season ticket as I went up onto platform three, only to see that the train was cancelled. I had to leg it sharpish over to platform one for the train that left two minutes later. The ticket inspectors there got somewhat short shrift.
Actually, I also saw the ticket inspectors when I arrived back from LV on Friday afternoon. Millions of them, guarding every exit from Lewisham station (of which there are many), like eager workers at a local POW camp. I had half a mind to stop and shout: "Porter! Could you carry my suitcase for me, please?", and see what kind of response I would get from these no-lifes.
I mean, 40 years ago a man in a uniform would take your suitcase home for you, doff his cap at the farthing tip and offer you his daughter for the night "if you were feeling a bit lonely, sir". Now all you get is concentration camp guards who seem keen to cart you off to Guantanemo Bay if your ticket is only valid for zones six to three and you have accidentally stratyed into zone two. If this is what privatization means, then include me out.
Pete
Of course, getting the alarm to go off at 5.30 when you have only managed to get to sleep at 2.30 isn't exactly a joy, but it's quite nice to leave the house to a temperature that doesn't have the capability to cause exiles from Siberia to complain about the cold.
And it was a return to the gym, too, albeit with a relatively gentle workout. Ah yes, swings, we get back into them.
But I did think that it was a bit off to have people checking my season ticket as I went up onto platform three, only to see that the train was cancelled. I had to leg it sharpish over to platform one for the train that left two minutes later. The ticket inspectors there got somewhat short shrift.
Actually, I also saw the ticket inspectors when I arrived back from LV on Friday afternoon. Millions of them, guarding every exit from Lewisham station (of which there are many), like eager workers at a local POW camp. I had half a mind to stop and shout: "Porter! Could you carry my suitcase for me, please?", and see what kind of response I would get from these no-lifes.
I mean, 40 years ago a man in a uniform would take your suitcase home for you, doff his cap at the farthing tip and offer you his daughter for the night "if you were feeling a bit lonely, sir". Now all you get is concentration camp guards who seem keen to cart you off to Guantanemo Bay if your ticket is only valid for zones six to three and you have accidentally stratyed into zone two. If this is what privatization means, then include me out.
Pete
