The day that was

Despite the best efforts of the Northern Line, which turned a 28 minute journey into a 45 minute journey, and the rush hour Victoria Line which saw me let three full trains go by, I managed to get to the office in time for the coach to the away day.

Lucky I allowed the extra 20 minutes, which was intended to allow me time to buy a coffee and a sandwich for breakfast. By crackey but was I hungry come lunchtime...

Anyway, despite my reservations the day was actually quite interesting, and Poplar (out in the East End)is not quite the bandit country I had imagined it to be; I did not need a passport to get there, and they still use Sterling, so no need for the Euros I hadn't got anyway. Phew, lucky escape.

I may have mentioned this before at some point, but I can't be arsed to check, so let's pretend this is the first time I'm talking about it. I noticed some years back, and yomping along north of Docklands reminded me of it particularly today. Physics and geography operate on some strange quantum level in London. Now, this is not something you can do on purpose. If you make a conscious attempt, it simply will not work; you have to look around to find it. But if you operate on an unconscious, seemingly random series of unplanned actions, it happens all the time, and every time.

What am I talking about? Canada Tower or as it is more generally known no1 Canary Wharf. The tallest building in the city. At 40 odd storeys, not large by North American or South East Asian standards, but still something to shout about in determinedly low-rise London, where the number of buildings of over 15 storeys can be counted on the fingers of one hand (provided you are a mutant - but there are fewer than 10).

Anyway, the thing is, whenever you are in London, if you happen to glance up and look at the horizon, just by happenstance, and without planning, there it is: Canary Wharf. It will be directly in front of you and perfectly visible, no matter how murky the weather, or how far away it is. At some point, someone will provide mathematical proof of this observation, and that person will go on to win a Nobel Prize for physics.

Until that happens, it is just plain bloody spooky.

The day that was

Despite the best efforts of the Northern Line, which turned a 28 minute journey into a 45 minute journey, and the rush hour Victoria Line which saw me let three full trains go by, I managed to get to the office in time for the coach to the away day.

Lucky I allowed the extra 20 minutes, which was intended to allow me time to buy a coffee and a sandwich for breakfast. By crackey but was I hungry come lunchtime...

Anyway, despite my reservations the day was actually quite interesting, and Poplar (out in the East End)is not quite the bandit country I had imagined it to be; I did not need a passport to get there, and they still use Sterling, so no need for the Euros I hadn't got anyway. Phew, lucky escape.

I may have mentioned this before at some point, but I can't be arsed to check, so let's pretend this is the first time I'm talking about it. I noticed some years back, and yomping along north of Docklands reminded me of it particularly today. Physics and geography operate on some strange quantum level in London. Now, this is not something you can do on purpose. If you make a conscious attempt, it simply will not work; you have to look around to find it. But if you operate on an unconscious, seemingly random series of unplanned actions, it happens all the time, and every time.

What am I talking about? Canada Tower or as it is more generally known no1 Canary Wharf. The tallest building in the city. At 40 odd storeys, not large by North American or South East Asian standards, but still something to shout about in determinedly low-rise London, where the number of buildings of over 15 storeys can be counted on the fingers of one hand (provided you are a mutant - but there are fewer than 10).

Anyway, the thing is, whenever you are in London, if you happen to glance up and look at the horizon, just by happenstance, and without planning, there it is: Canary Wharf. It will be directly in front of you and perfectly visible, no matter how murky the weather, or how far away it is. At some point, someone will provide mathematical proof of this observation, and that person will go on to win a Nobel Prize for physics.

Until that happens, it is just plain bloody spooky.