So I’m getting off the bus this evening thinking, that’s funny, I could have sworn I had a cast iron blog subject to write about today but the trains were back to normal, little bit late, bus ride was uneventful, tube was … ah yes, the tube. You see I was back on the tube for the first time since the bombs went off (and no, I am not going to start calling it 7/7). And I was expecting a little something, you know some frisson, some sense of alertness, some moral dilemma (do I sit next to that sweating bearded gentleman of middle-eastern appearance clutching the big backpack or not?).
Nothing. Apart from the minor inconvenience of not being able to get my usual Picadilly line train to Russell Square, I’d almost forgotten about the whole thing. And in the heaving morass that is the Northern line any idea that you might be able to choose who to sit next to is laughable. That would require things like more than one spare seat, and the time to decide which one to sit in.
There were five of us meeting up; one came on a bike, one on a motorbike, the rest of us on the tube. So which of us was taking the greater risk? Well, put it this way, you don’t generally need a helmet to ride on the tube…
Total time wasted today: 4 minutes
Total time wasted to date: 6 hours 54 minutes