The curse of Gatwick has struck again. We were due to fly back yesterday at 6am, but ended up flying to Stansted at 2pm instead. Because some fool built Gatwick in the worst possible place, and then organised it in such a way that it goes wrong with the least possible excuse.
On the plus side, coming into Stansted meant that we got to use their trains, which seemed to work. It was only when we got to the point of trying to get out to South London that things got hairy again – the trains were filled to the point where I’m surprised that they didn’t employ people to shove more on, Tokyo stylee. But hey, it meant that I got to be standing about three eighths of an inch from a couple that were busy planning their dirty night in. Just before the female of the couple phoned her husband to explain that the snow would prevent her getting home that evening.
Some people, eh? Can’t even plan their affairs quietly…
And now, I shall go outside and walk to work. The last temperature reading that I saw said that the temperature was -5. Wish me luck.