Night Bus

Two strange experiences this morning – one good, one bad. I was waiting for the N35 night bus from Beford Road to Liverpool Street station. The bus stop was quiet at 03:45, but then a drunk man swayed his way towards me. Oh no, what now? But I need not have worried. The guy – probably 35 – had fallen and injured his hand while drunk and asked me if I could help. I found a small plaster in my first aid kit in my rucksack. He was immensely grateful, thanked me, and then got off the N35 a few stops into the journey. It was a rare moment of social interaction with a stranger in London!

Things were sadly not quite so good when taking the flight to Girona from London Stansted this morning. Early in the morning, Stansted is nightmarish at the best of times, but especially so when a plane of uncouth Brits is leaving for summer holidays, or, worse still hen parties in Spain. A group of 8 women in their late twenties was ahead of me at check in, all wearing horribly garish puce pink T-Shirts emblazoned with the words:

1 hen
7 chicks
No cocks

with a picture of the hen as a small child printed on the back of the shirts.

Whywould you want to do that?

I’m just glad we’re hiring a car in Spain and then travelling north to France!

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