Oh, your red scarf matches your eyes...
Thursday, September 11th, 2008 11:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
caddymanToday hasn’t got off to a good start; I am so tired that I can barely keep my eyes straight and when I can, everything further away than a couple of yards is in soft focus. I slept badly last night and for too short a time.
I have meetings either side of lunch (or rather a single meeting with different people, with a break in the middle for lunch). That will be interesting if I can’t wake up and focus.
I have already proven to my own satisfaction that my general mental facilities are operating well below par. I got to the station this morning to find for the first time in weeks, the next train would be for Morden, via Bank. This is my favoured train for reasons I needn’t trouble you with, but they rarely appear at the time of day I use the service. Anyway, I barrelled onto the train as it pulled into the station and promptly dropped into a semi conscious torpor. The upshot is that I was only partially awake when the train pulled into Camden Town and when the station name was announced somewhere down in the monkey bit of my brain (all higher functions trying to boot up according to the manual), I suddenly panicked and rushed off the train.
Of course I realised once I was on the platform, that I had just decamped at entirely the wrong station and given up a perfectly comfortable seat one stop (on the Bank Branch) too early. Since, to add insult to injury, there were severe delays all along the line anyway, because of a signal failure of Kennington (or Camden, or somewhere), it was already 10 o’clock and the train sat impassively on the platform. I could have got back on it; I probably should have got back on it, but as I say, all higher brain function was off line and instinctive English reserve – the sort that suggests that we inconvenience ourselves rather than look like a pillock in front of strangers – kicked in and ensured that I waited for the next train, which was not one I really wanted and which went to Kennington via Charing Cross.
That train finally arrived and took me down the other branch meaning that instead of simply walking across the platform at Euston, I had to trail around underground tunnels in the middle of a crowd.
I finally got to Victoria at 10.25. It was raining.
I have meetings either side of lunch (or rather a single meeting with different people, with a break in the middle for lunch). That will be interesting if I can’t wake up and focus.
I have already proven to my own satisfaction that my general mental facilities are operating well below par. I got to the station this morning to find for the first time in weeks, the next train would be for Morden, via Bank. This is my favoured train for reasons I needn’t trouble you with, but they rarely appear at the time of day I use the service. Anyway, I barrelled onto the train as it pulled into the station and promptly dropped into a semi conscious torpor. The upshot is that I was only partially awake when the train pulled into Camden Town and when the station name was announced somewhere down in the monkey bit of my brain (all higher functions trying to boot up according to the manual), I suddenly panicked and rushed off the train.
Of course I realised once I was on the platform, that I had just decamped at entirely the wrong station and given up a perfectly comfortable seat one stop (on the Bank Branch) too early. Since, to add insult to injury, there were severe delays all along the line anyway, because of a signal failure of Kennington (or Camden, or somewhere), it was already 10 o’clock and the train sat impassively on the platform. I could have got back on it; I probably should have got back on it, but as I say, all higher brain function was off line and instinctive English reserve – the sort that suggests that we inconvenience ourselves rather than look like a pillock in front of strangers – kicked in and ensured that I waited for the next train, which was not one I really wanted and which went to Kennington via Charing Cross.
That train finally arrived and took me down the other branch meaning that instead of simply walking across the platform at Euston, I had to trail around underground tunnels in the middle of a crowd.
I finally got to Victoria at 10.25. It was raining.
