How rude

An unexpectedly trouble free journey into the office this morning and had I not stopped at Victoria station to take part in a London Transport customer satisfaction survey I should have been on time. They caught me on a good day. That is to say the Tube had behaved itself and I wasn’t upset by anything it had done, so I was quite lenient with all my scores except for the cost. When the system works properly, it is marvellous, but it goes wrong far too often and far too badly for anyone to be happy with paying the highest transit rates in the world.

There was no question in the survey that dealt with annoying old ladies who give you the evil eye for no apparent reason for an extended portion of the journey. When I got on the train at Totteridge and Whetstone a rheumy eyed Old Trout sat opposite me and eyed me suspiciously. When Furtle phoned me and we had a brief conversation between Finchley Central and East Finchley (the last two stations before the line goes underground), the suspicious look switched to downright malice. Presumably she is not one with the march of technology.

When I changed trains at Euston, I surreptitiously checked my shirt buttons and fly just to ensure that I hadn’t been giving her an unwonted view of anything, but all was in order.

It was.

I expect she had overindulged on the devilled kidneys for breakfast.

How rude

An unexpectedly trouble free journey into the office this morning and had I not stopped at Victoria station to take part in a London Transport customer satisfaction survey I should have been on time. They caught me on a good day. That is to say the Tube had behaved itself and I wasn’t upset by anything it had done, so I was quite lenient with all my scores except for the cost. When the system works properly, it is marvellous, but it goes wrong far too often and far too badly for anyone to be happy with paying the highest transit rates in the world.

There was no question in the survey that dealt with annoying old ladies who give you the evil eye for no apparent reason for an extended portion of the journey. When I got on the train at Totteridge and Whetstone a rheumy eyed Old Trout sat opposite me and eyed me suspiciously. When Furtle phoned me and we had a brief conversation between Finchley Central and East Finchley (the last two stations before the line goes underground), the suspicious look switched to downright malice. Presumably she is not one with the march of technology.

When I changed trains at Euston, I surreptitiously checked my shirt buttons and fly just to ensure that I hadn’t been giving her an unwonted view of anything, but all was in order.

It was.

I expect she had overindulged on the devilled kidneys for breakfast.