![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Station To Station
Oct. 20th, 2008 01:54 pmI went to the Lloyd's Party on Thursday night. I try to get out once a year, so it was nice to get this year's out of the way before Christmas. The evening was only slightly spoilt by one ex-employee of ours, now at a rival, who seemed to think that a Lloyd's party was an excuse to try to sell advertising. I would say that it was almost embarrassing, but sales people do not understand the concept of the word.
On the way home I was reading my Neal Stephenson, glancing up as one does to see how much progress had been made to one's destination station, when I suddenly noticed that we had pulled into Lewisham. I scrambled off the crwded train, bashing one poor bloke on the head as I stood up and stepping on another poor woman's toes, leapt on to the platform, folowed the crowd out of the strangely redesigned station, and suddenly found myself in New Cross.
Fuck.
I had forgotten that trains that go straight through to Lewisham during the day often stop at New Cross in the later evening.
So, I went for a little trudge towards Loampit Vale, waited for a bus, and arrived home just 15 minutes or so late, so I guess the whole thing qualifies as an adventure rather than a disaster.
+++++++++++++
One of my greatest joys in the past couple of weeks was stacking off a nut-peddler, when favourite. Achieving this (when you are favourite) is on a par with deciphering a recently rediscovered ancient language. Unfortunately it came shortly after I myself had been stacked off with Aces. There was no escape from this because opponent hit his two-outer on the turn.
Anyhoo, I called a not very big raise with 22 in the big blind, and was pleased to see a flop of 227 with a couple of hearts. This is an obvious candidate for a small "bluff" lead out, which elicited a call from opponent (this guy only raised with big pairs, so I haven't discovered anything I didn't already know about his hand). Turn brought an Ace. I put in a half-pot bet and opponent gleefully raised a significant amount, I mini-reraised and he insta-shoved with AA. Oh, bad luck, sir.
______________
On the way home I was reading my Neal Stephenson, glancing up as one does to see how much progress had been made to one's destination station, when I suddenly noticed that we had pulled into Lewisham. I scrambled off the crwded train, bashing one poor bloke on the head as I stood up and stepping on another poor woman's toes, leapt on to the platform, folowed the crowd out of the strangely redesigned station, and suddenly found myself in New Cross.
Fuck.
I had forgotten that trains that go straight through to Lewisham during the day often stop at New Cross in the later evening.
So, I went for a little trudge towards Loampit Vale, waited for a bus, and arrived home just 15 minutes or so late, so I guess the whole thing qualifies as an adventure rather than a disaster.
+++++++++++++
One of my greatest joys in the past couple of weeks was stacking off a nut-peddler, when favourite. Achieving this (when you are favourite) is on a par with deciphering a recently rediscovered ancient language. Unfortunately it came shortly after I myself had been stacked off with Aces. There was no escape from this because opponent hit his two-outer on the turn.
Anyhoo, I called a not very big raise with 22 in the big blind, and was pleased to see a flop of 227 with a couple of hearts. This is an obvious candidate for a small "bluff" lead out, which elicited a call from opponent (this guy only raised with big pairs, so I haven't discovered anything I didn't already know about his hand). Turn brought an Ace. I put in a half-pot bet and opponent gleefully raised a significant amount, I mini-reraised and he insta-shoved with AA. Oh, bad luck, sir.
______________
