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Wednesday, May 21, 2003

I've started walking to work again, which I stopped for a while when I moved into the flat. It takes about a half an hour to travel the distance on my poor excuse for legs. This may not sound so amazing to you if unless are a resident of London. That’s right, I’m a lucky bastard. I live in London, and by complete coincidence my Job and my work are only a half hour apart. Walking to work is so much more relaxing. The bus was shit.


Public transport in London is very extensive, priced reasonably (well, compared to taxies or owning a car) and pretty fast from point A to Point B. But it’s also boring.

Londoners, as a rule, Don’t Talk on public transport. A habit that makes sense on London’s noisy Underground system, but causes you to wonder what horrible punishments are given to those who talk on buses. Until some ones Mobile rings that is. Then your fellow passenger not only starts to talk, they become extremely vocal. It is a strange behaviour pattern, in my opinion, that effectively causes people to only talk to people who are not visible. If you are sitting next to your fellow passenger, he or she will act like you are not even there. But, if you are not there, he or she will act like your are sitting right next to them. A typical London bus passenger will discuss, debate, pontificate or just plain yell at the top of their voice about any subject that comes to mind. Going from not knowing weather the girl sitting across the aisle can even speak English, to learning Her name, the names of her last few boyfriends, her views on the war in Iraq, and the horrifying effects of her mothers battle with fiber can make you wish you had skipped breakfast. Or walked to work.

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