Well, this morning I had a fun time getting to work. It was pouring with rain and there was a busload of people at my bus stop with no bus. Literally masses of them.
When public transport stuffs up in London, it really makes you aware of the volume of people who travel in rush hour in the city every day. I mean that's not even taking into account the people on the tube.
Once on the bus, we passed bus stop after bus stop of people all clamouring to squeeze themselves onto the teeniest last available space. It was not great. After a while, my bus driver gave up and just sailed passed the crowd-riddled stops, which actually meant I got to work earlier than usual!
So, last night I had a great climb with Flo, who in spite of demonic hay fever came all the way to meet me and climbed brilliantly.
I however, seemed to have left my technique at the door! Seriously, at one point, as I was perched on a ledge in a position resembling that of a can-canning crab, I wondered if I had actually been climbing before!
Flo was great about my sanity lapse and made me redo routes I'd previously stuffed up, to remind me to do what I was meant to do, rather than scrabble up with the elegance of a drunken mountain goat.
Anyway, this morning, after arriving at work early, I got into the lift with two other people. As I was first in, it was my job to press the buttons and I asked them their floors:
Three and Six.
At level three, the doors opened and the woman in the lift said, ‘This isn’t my floor, I asked for two!’ before stomping out and muttering something about walking back down to the second floor.
‘I’m deaf!’ I wanted to scream, but she didn’t give me the chance. So I had an excruciating elevator ride, glowing red right to the tips of my ears, with the guy who was going to the sixth floor. He was probably wondering if he was in the lift with a primitive life form. And if he’d seen me in action at the climbing wall last night, he’d probably have been right!
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