48 hour tube strike
It took longer to get to Holland Park from Paddington station than from Heathrow to Paddington on the slow train.
I'm writing from the back of a cab. Our driver, a man of action, told us of a fellow he waved to who went into the preisthood because a cabbie's life was too stressfull.
Today he's right. The tube stike has made a rush hour nightmare, if judged by the yelling fight we witnessed with a motorcyclist and bus driver yelling at the idiot who cut them off.
"you got rocks up here," said the bus driver knocking his noggin, explaining that he has a full bus and can't come to quick stops without hurting people.
Bike riders and motorbikes swerve into and out of traffic, lane splitting which looks like head splitting about to happen to me. Who needs helmets when you have swiftness?
The sidewalks are full of walkers trying to get home. Walkers in suits, ladies in heels. People look hot but resigned. The bus stops snarled, every intersection packed. It's like a parade on the streets. Were it like this everyday I can imagine myself among them.
So there it is. Welcome to London.
