12 August 2010

A day of great contrasts. I haven't felt so tired in ages. I only just caught the train by the skin of my teeth this morning, and only had the energy to work my way half way towards the front. So when I arri9ved at London Bridge, it took what felt like hours to exit the station.

The bus stop nearest work was being dug up by workmen, but luckily the bus driver stopped just past it. I had to sit on the bench in the bus shelter to get myself ready for the last couple of hundred yards to the office, but I made it. The day passed uneventfully enough, but when I left, I really just wanted to go to sleep. I arrived at the station with barely 10 minutes until my train left. I knew I couldn't make it. Perhaps on a good day, but today wasn't a good day.

As I made my way towards the escalators, I don't know what happened - perhaps all the people rushing past disorientated me, but I suddenly felt myself going over. A very kind man half caught me and (displaying remarkable sensitivity) asked me if I wanted to get myself up or wanted a hand. To be honest, I'd have been mighty grateful to be effortlessly hoisted to my feet, but not wishing to be a total wuss, I turned over onto my hands and knees and rose up, thanking him for his kindness.

Of course, I missed the train. It was 2 or 3 minutes from leaving as I passed through the barrier, so I knew that the only sensible thing was to take advantage of the thoughtfully located bench and spend 10 minutes recovering my composire before the final stretch.

Anyone would think it was a trek through the Himalayas.