Has anyone seen my camel?

So where are we up to, then?

I got into the office at about 10.45 this morning after sitting with Furtle on the bloody Jubilee Line for an hour and a half. We left the house at 8.15 as usual. I’ll say no more other than to observe that people are rude about the Northern Line, giving it the nickname ‘Misery Line’. I have over 20 years’ experience with the Northern Line and whilst it has its moments, it really, really can’t hold a candle to the clusterf*ck that is the Jubilee.

Anyway, enough of that, I say.

On Wednesday, after some delay, Mr and Mrs telemeister (or on Dreamwidth, Mr and Mrs 2d) arrived from California and we met them after a bit of chasing around, at Liverpool Street Station, before escorting them to the Gin Palace for the evening.

I took a day off yesterday to escort them to St Pancras so that they could get the train up to Derby and they will be back at the end of next week, where we will get to see them again for a couple of nights.

Rather foolishly because they had wheelie bags, we used the bus to get to Ilford station. Perhaps we should have walked and then we would have avoided a couple of strange specimens on the bus, demonstrating the lower end of English society. The most bizarre of the two was an elderly man of Chinese or other East Asian decent. He was quite dapperly dressed in a slightly too big grey pinstripe suit and sported a yellow rose in his button hole. He got on the bus with a cheery ‘Heil Hitler’ to the bus driver and then sat next to a woman at least 40 years his junior and proceeded to profess his undying love to her.

Welcome to England.

Hopefully that is not something that will recur during their visit. Most of us are quite normal. Quack.