Strike Out

Well, the Tube strikes scheduled for tomorrow and Friday have been called off.

This means that the bulk of the country, who couldn’t care less will be spared the saturation coverage of hundreds of thousands of Londoners getting agitated and TV news presenters trying to say something different, new and interesting about bus queues every fifteen minutes or so on News TV, against a backdrop of an ancient Route Master bus, which has probably been projected in mirror image so that it accidentally looks continental.

For those of us who live down here, the lack of strike this time around is a blessing. Well, it is for me. Normally I would just work from home and enjoy a sleep in before logging on earlier than I normally would do, having trailed into the office. And twice this week, too, had it happened. The thing is, though, Friday is my last work day for two weeks and it is actually useful to be physically present in the office this week. There are meetings and there is stuff to do. Rubbish stuff, granted, but stuff that won’t go away of its own accord. So while I usually enjoy me a good Tube strike, I’m glad there won’t be any this week.

At the same time, I rather hope that negotiations don’t break down while I’m on holiday. They can wait until I get back from my holidays; there’s no point wasting them. One day, of course, I’m certain to win the lottery, so this will all become irrelevant as I shall be living the Life of Riley in obscene luxury, miles and miles from the city. In the meantime, though…