Earlier I was in court asking, successfully, for an adjournment to the first available slot of sufficient time after 56 days: the clerk afterwards helpfully agreed to set it down immediately. "56 days" he said. "Well, that's 21st Dec. You can have 3rd Jan."
Where did 2006 go? Actually, while we're about it, where did 2005 go? My mental present tense remains in 2004. Mind you, I think I spent several years in 1983, and again in 1991.
So, today's hearing having ended early in a certain amount of hysteria (the reasons for the hysteria probably being comprehensible without detailed and lengthy explanation only to litigation-oriented lawyers, and I've been banging on about that side of my life too much lately), I decided to pootle off to UCH to see about fixing up some physio on my shoulder, courtesy of my GP's referral.
She'd given me a choice of UCH (which is fairly convenient for work) and the Royal Free (which is fairly convenient for home). Mindful of advice once given to me by a wise if flaky woman I opted for the teaching hospital...
Fourteen sodding weeks on the list. Balls to this (memo to self, must talk to health insurers tomorrow). So, thinking dire thoughts, I wandered down TCR to the tube station and slapped my Oyster card on the reader.
No response, and no response when doing so more carefully on other readers.
After some exploration, in the company of a friendly chap in the ticket office, it transpired that my Oyster card thought I had an "incomplete journey" (ie hadn't touched in) ending at Goodge St at... 2.30 AM.. (at which point the friendly ticket inspector's voice trailed away in embarrassment). It might have been more understandable if my journey starting at Goodge St last night (after an interminable lecture entitled "Law and Economics 20 years on", a worthy competitor for prizes in dullness, incomprehensibility, pointlessness and further dullness with its subject matter) and my journey ending at Goodge St that afternoon hadn't been otherwise accounted for on the record. The only possible explanation is that I've taken to exploring the tube network in my sleep. While no tubes are running. I shall take to wearing a "please look after this bear" label and would ask you all to be kind should you bump into me at Hounslow one night. At least this explains why I've been so tired recently.
Either that or Goodge St is some kind of temporal anomaly, but I refuse to make lame Hitchhikers references.
Rose tints my world, keeps me safe from my trouble and pain
(no points).
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branchandroot
