Wednesday 7 March 2012

Don't say you weren't warned

Holy shit - look how much fun this little guy is having.

There. I'm glad I got that out of my system. Now back to the frankly more ludicrous prospect of you people paying attention to what I'm writing.

It's fair to say that at the moment, my spare time is somewhat limited. Labouring under the prospect that work is work no matter where you find it, I currently find my self locked in battle with the pleasures of public transport for a plentiful portion of my day. For someone used to the breathtaking independence of motorcycling, this is akin to locking me in an airtight room, then filling that room with well-dressed morons, whose bags, coats and other detritus are somehow a substitute for a real person in a seat on a crowded train.

I'm not averse to the general public, after all, some of them are people I don't want to beat senseless with a flaming brick. However, I'm happy to hold these witless sacks of human cargo responsible for my being sans transport, instead of my utter lack of sanity when told - "It's icy out, you don't need to give me a lift to the station." The manly tradition of selective hearing surprisingly let me down on that one.
Just a glitch, gents.

Laying aside my overwhelming vehemence for commuters, I find myself on the brink of returning to the road and it's inherent thrills. A momentary lapse in confidence held me back (coupled with the ever delightful British weather), but I'm tantilisingly close to wearing the same expression as our furry friend up there - something between sheer, pant-wetting terror and meglomaniacal ecstasy.

Why, you ask? Because filtering through traffic is like doing the Death Star Trench Run twice a day. Except the TIE Fighter pilots are heading towards you with mobile phones crushed between their ears and shoulders, while they jam greasy McMuffins and foul Costa coffee into their maws, steering their lethal death craft with their knees.

S'fun, you know?

"I'll have to call you back, Darth I'm snarled up on the A52."

The point being (and I may say that a lot of the coming months), I'm looking to win back time. More time means more chance to fill this squalid corner of the web with my incessant rambling, something which can only end badly for us all.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

No comments:

Post a Comment