Oh dear. September already, and the summer lull is well and truly over – as I noticed when I got through the gates at Vauxhall this morning and saw the thundering hordes piling down onto the concourse. My lovely empty peaceful trains (in the morning at least) are but a distant memory and the whole sinking back to school feeling was not helped by the woman behind me remarking to her friend ‘And after that it’s the run up to Christmas and then Easter …’ – wish your life away, dear, why don’t you?
Still, Transport for London and the squiggly-signatured Tim O’Toole did try to cheer me up, bless them, by emailing me at lunchtime and suggesting I might want to aim to complete my journey home by 5pm today. Sure, they pretended it was to do with this strike, but a casual perusal of my oyster records would have told them I don’t generally use the tube on weekdays, sticking to the overground. No, I know, they were just trying to ease us all back into the working routine by giving us half the afternoon off. Sadly, my boss and a recaltricant piece of software had other ideas.