This morning, I wrote my blog on the bus and emailed it to myself, as I do every morning. Except this morning, it didn’t arrive. Which means that someone somewhere in my iPhone address book got my unedited blog for Monday… and I got absolutely nothing.
My bleary-eyed state on the bus also means that I can’t actually remember what I wrote, either! Most annoying.
I do know that I wrote about having a marvellous time with Whiskey Cousin. We shopping, ate a lot of food in China Town at a place called Wonky – or Wong Kei as it was actually spelt, and then went to Mamma Mia. Thanks to the lovely box office peeps, we had premium tickets near the front for a fraction of the price, so I was able to follow a little of what was going on, and could even lipread some bits. It was a totally brilliant evening – especially the bit at the end when everyone jumped up from their seats and sang along with the cast.
I think at this point Whiskey Cousin wanted to crawl under her seat with embarrassment as I sang my heart out!
Anyway, yesterday a French man saved my life – OK, alright, he didn’t actually save my life, but he certainly saved my sanity after the tube I was travelling in stopped in a tunnel, for what seemed like an eternity (probably about 2 minutes!).
You see, I had just dropped Whiskey Cousin at the station and it was the fastest, and only route home, given the weekend tube closures. Hating the tube, I was not feeling overly enthusiastic when I got on the train, but I consoled myself that it was only a few stops – pah! A few stops and a long wait (2 minutes) in a tunnel.
So, the train stopped.
I took a deep breath and sat down.
The train didn’t move.
I got out my iPhone and tried to play Scrabble to distract myself.
Still the train stayed put.
I looked up wildly, and asked the man opposite me if there had been any announcements. He looked totally freaked out that someone had actually spoken to him and ignored me.
And that was when the lovely French man stepped in. Seeing my wide-eyed stare, he asked if I was OK and I admitted I hated the underground and asked if he could chat to me until the train started moving again.
And so he did…
In fact, the first thing he did was tell me he had a girlfriend – I’m guessing he must have wondered if I was actually running an elaborate pick-up plan – and then we chatted. I found out he was a PHD student working at a company over here and he was from the Loire Valley but studied in Lyon. He totally cheered me up and distracted me for the eternity (2 minutes) that we were stuck in the tunnel for.
As he walked with me from our station, I marvelled at how nice he had been in my time of need – and at how good looking he was.
Perhaps it should have been an elaborate pick-up plan after all… but then pitching myself as a neurotic, wide-eyed blonde is not perhaps the best idea.
Hmmm… back to the drawing board!