RACE TILL THE END
i DO THINK I WAS IN THE RIGHT. HE CHOSE THIS PATH. ALSO YOUR WELCOME FOR THE RABBIT HOLES
I’ll start by saying I’m an incredibly competitive person, so I think that will cover all these decisions I made one lovely, freezing, sad morning. In any situation, I’m always looking for a game. I make sure every party I go to has some activity, such as beer pong or a good old game of badminton. Though I’ve never played Twister, I feel the mix of alcohol and interpretative dance would set me on a road to a very full toilet of sickness. I probably wouldn’t make it to the toilet, and the board would become a slip-and-slide. Maybe Twister isn’t for me.
I feel I have strayed away from the story quite far. It’s like when I try to go to the gym but end up in IKEA, trying to guess how a flatpack table goes together without any instructions, as that’s basically what you have to do. If it isn’t going to be a traumatic experience, then I’m not interested. Once I built this unit from IKEA. It was flatpacked, so I had to assemble it, obviously, and I would consider myself a somewhat moderate DIYer; my skills and logic tend not to cross when needed. So when it came to putting that backing on, I put it on with the painted side outwards, which doesn’t make any sense, as you won’t be able to see it. I would have the MDF board colour facing inwards, so when you open the cupboard, you’d just see that. You might think I could just turn it around or paint it, but that ain’t me. After applying 100 nails to this board to hold it in place, I then strategically ripped them off in a state of pure panic and then flipped it over and tried again. In the end, I don’t think it’s that noticeable, but it was a rather annoying thing. Why can’t a bookshelf be more like Lego and not this grown‑up bullshit? Why suck all the fun out of something so satisfying?
Wow, fell down another rabbit hole there, but let’s get back to the story that I haven’t even bloody started. Here it goes:
I like sleep, I like a lie‑in. I like setting my alarm clock an hour before I need to get up so I can have a lie‑in. Doesn’t matter if I need to get up at 6 am, I will set my alarm for 5 so I can torture myself by not being able to get back to sleep, but also not being able to get out of bed. It’s a thin line, and often I just end up really miserable. It must be a waste of time at this point, however, I think I’m pretty functional,l whatever I sleep. So I was up and thinking about the travel.
Do I go now, get the early train and be early to London, yet it won't be quiet? It surprises me how many people are awake. Hypocritically of me, I think surely anyone would choose more sleep. The other thought I had was that’s not fair variables for this race. I have decided today is a race day, the largest race in history, thousands of people who don’t know what’s going on racing me for no fucking reason, but it’s fun. I decided to get my normal train, and no complaints for that part of the journey. It was surprisingly not shit.
HOWEVER
THEN
I GOT TO LONDON BRIDGE.
All sense of logic is gone. Getting off a train is one of the hardest things to do, but no one realises. How do you make it better? Why are people so happy to make an inconvenience to their journeys, I don’t know. More on that later.
The straight from London Bridge to the News Building, this is the race course. It is the fastest way to get to the Northern line. Not commonly known, so keep it to yourself. As long as you are first, then you will always be the first one on the tub,e and that’s a fact.
As I approach the escalator, I notice a middle‑aged bastard, I’ll call him, keeping up with me, which was quite impressive, hats off to him. He went on the right, and I was on the left, making my final approach to the escalator, and like a normal person, I was expecting to walk down it as you do. He too felt he was going to walk down it. Now, as you may know, there are many rules of the escalator which I’ll insert here, in picture form, for those of you who can’t understand logic.
He decided to walk down the standing side. What a complete moron. It’s like when trying to merge when driving, are you the type of person to let them in or the type of person to block, and you win. I’m a winner, not a chicken dinner; I thought that was a good rhyme. I descended on the escalator, and he was next to me, hoping to squeeze in front. I was not having that. I wanted victory, so I increased speed as did he. Another businessman was standing halfway down, which put him in a spot of bother. He tried overtaking, and I silenced that plonker, in the sense I walked a bit faster and gave him a look up and down, shook my head and then continued. No one beats this guy unless you do, which I’d be thankful for.