Downstairs And Soggy

A day of interesting walking, all in all - did my occasional 4.5 miles this morning, with an extra little twinge - Got to Aldgate station and they told me the Circle Line (which I use) wasn't running westbound. Had to walk BACK the way I'd come to get a District Line. Can't tell you how weirdly wrong that felt, but there you go. When I got back to the previous station, the staff there told me the staff at Aldgate East must have been smoking crack - the Circle Line was running jusssst fine. Goddamnsonofabitch...The walk itself felt good and comfortable though and seemed faster than normal - about one hour twenty, rather than one hour forty, which it was when I started doing the extended walks. So - progress there.

Had to get out of work a little early, because I had to meet d at Bromley-by-Bow. We were going to be some of the hardy souls to do the last evening Olympic Walk this year. Essentially, this was a big PR exercise for London 2012, but one where you paid to be lied to, while taken close to, but not into, some of the Olympic venues in East London.
"Make sure you get twenty quid, so we can pay for the walk," said d when I left this morning. I hadn't got it by the time I left the office, and I'll be honest, having worn my walking boots into work, I'd unlaced them and done the day without them. So I grabbed them, and laced them loosely when I left.
Got a bus down to High Street Kensington, and, pressured for time, had to make a decision between crossing the road to a cashpoint, or having a brainwave.

I had a brainwave. There's a Marks & Spencers at the station, and having used it many a time, I remembered there was a cashpoint in the basement of the store. I nipped down the first flight of stairs to the basement. Tripped. Fell over, down the stairs. Came to a somewhat undignified stop on a bigger, middle platform. Got up, dusted myself down, lifted one foot.

Fell down the second set of stairs.

Know what happens when you fall down two sets of stairs with your hand out to stop yourself? I look like a highly amateurish self-harmer, as though I've been hacking away at my right wrist with a butter knife and positively vegan energy-levels.

The real kicker, I suppose, was that when I got to the basement, I discovered the cashpoint was actually on the ground floor.

I fell again, this time while in the process of getting on a tube, barrelling forward from foot to foot and slamming the now-bleeding right wrist against the window. Sat my ass down at the first available opportunity and re-tied the laces.

Got off at Bromley-by-Bow and was surprised to see d get off a couple of carriages ahead of me. We got up to street level.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, "What've you done to your arm?!"
See...the thing about my girl is that the concern was genuine, but the instinct to care made her grab the arm and squeeze. My eyes popped out on cartoon-character-stalks and I winced...rather loudly.

We started the tour, walking from Bromley-by-Bow back to Stratford (an ironic inversion of part of my morning journey). About a quarter of the way along the walk...the heavens opened. We walked on, getting wetter, and wetter, while the guide told us about the great legacy the Olympics would leave, and a tall European man became the real entertainment, invading the guide's space, and ultimately complaining that he was getting wet, and sodding off.
After about an hour and a half, the guide had led us into what appeared to be scrubland in the middle of nowhere. Annnnd that was it, he announced, smiling, turning on his heel and striding rapidly into the distance and disappearing. Kinda stopped being fun at that point, and d and I squelched back to Pudding Mill Lane, to Stratford, and to home. The thought of cooking, or indeed, of washing anything up, defeated us - pizza night. Sod it, not worrying, done about six miles of walking, that'll do for today.

Tomorrow - probably should do the walking in the morning again, because tomorrow night, we're out at the theatre - we're talking Tennant, Tate and Shakespeare - Much Ado About Nothing. Awoo...ow...hoo...ow. Gonna go rest my wrist in a hot bath, and go to sleep. Ow...

Oh, blood was 5.9 this morning after 4.5 miles. Oh and while I'm here, just a quick "thankyouverymuch" to Elvis Presley, who died almost three and a half decades ago today. And a much deeper, more multi-layered, complex "thank you" to Lori, d's 'soul sister', who kept her safe through a horrible childhood, and made her laugh, and gave her hope, and who continues to do all of that and more to this day, her somethingth-but-not-tellin'-ya birthday. We love you girly.