London lament :-(
Yes, I'm having a brief grumble about my chosen place of habitat....
London.
Or rather London Transport.
I grew up on the Misery Line, that's the Northern Line to you foreigners.
But I loved it.
I never felt let down by the tube.
It started early and finished late, sometimes later.
As for buses, what could be better then a slow ride across London Town, taking in all the sights on the way to work.
And the night buses saved me many a time when I was a 'bit' younger after a night out clubbing.
We, en masse, would make our way down to Trafalgar Square, hoards of the youth of North London, finding our own personal bus home.
I have so many fond memories of wending my way home in the wee hours of the morning, turning the key in the door, creeping in and up to my room, not wanting to wake the parents. Going to bed as the sun is starting to rise and the dawn chorus is beginning to sing, has it's own particular sort of magic.
But last night I felt failed by London's wonderful transport service.
I had to walk along a busy road, round the corner and there is the bus stop. But what is so unfair, is that every time I do this journey, the bus (no matter what time I arrive) goes past the corner just as I'm getting to it.
This was last night's scenario.
Except that I ended up sitting there for a further half an hour, much to my chagrin.
It's amazing the array of different people that went past me at that time of night.
Older couples coming back from the theatre, young gaggles of girls drunk on too much 'whatever', looking barely legal. A father and son, same in profile, both chewing gum.
Finally, along came my bus.
I sat down and closed my eyes, knowing that I had a way to go, my bed getting ever closer.
Yes, I'm having a brief grumble about my chosen place of habitat....
London.
Or rather London Transport.
I grew up on the Misery Line, that's the Northern Line to you foreigners.
But I loved it.
I never felt let down by the tube.
It started early and finished late, sometimes later.
As for buses, what could be better then a slow ride across London Town, taking in all the sights on the way to work.
And the night buses saved me many a time when I was a 'bit' younger after a night out clubbing.
We, en masse, would make our way down to Trafalgar Square, hoards of the youth of North London, finding our own personal bus home.
I have so many fond memories of wending my way home in the wee hours of the morning, turning the key in the door, creeping in and up to my room, not wanting to wake the parents. Going to bed as the sun is starting to rise and the dawn chorus is beginning to sing, has it's own particular sort of magic.
But last night I felt failed by London's wonderful transport service.
I had to walk along a busy road, round the corner and there is the bus stop. But what is so unfair, is that every time I do this journey, the bus (no matter what time I arrive) goes past the corner just as I'm getting to it.
This was last night's scenario.
Except that I ended up sitting there for a further half an hour, much to my chagrin.
It's amazing the array of different people that went past me at that time of night.
Older couples coming back from the theatre, young gaggles of girls drunk on too much 'whatever', looking barely legal. A father and son, same in profile, both chewing gum.
Finally, along came my bus.
I sat down and closed my eyes, knowing that I had a way to go, my bed getting ever closer.
