An adventure in London. NEVER AGAIN. / Knee update
Last week me and Adam went up to Norwich to see our houses (ohmygodsocuteandniceandican'tbelieveiha vearealhousewithakitchenandeverything!) and it was all very pleasant, lots of wandering around the city spending money (or not, in my case, as I am RIDICULOUSLY POOR) and watching Sky Sports News - obviously not my choice, and we went for a meal at Pizza Express which was lovely and funny and generally, it was all good. And then on Wednesday, I had to get the train home. On the day after the tube strike...before they'd sorted out the trains. So I ended up in London, not knowing what the hell I was doing, being ushered onto a bus which I was told by an actual train man - who should have known these things! He should have known!!!! - was the right one. And I stood, the most crowded I have ever been on a bus surrounded by Londoners who knew what they were doing, and appeared to know where they were going. And I stood there for forty-five minutes, and I missed my train, and I was like shit, I just really hope I get to Paddington soon... And then the bus man announces, after everyone else has gotten off this goddamn bus, that we're terminating early. So I went up and asked him, you know, what the hell am I going to do, how am I going to get to Paddington now? If the bus isn't going there anymore? And he looked at me like I was mad and said, but this bus isn't going to Paddington...it's going in the opposite direction... and then he chuckled (literally chuckled...bastard) and said, all cheery and all, "Oh! Ironic really, if you'd have got on the right bus you'd be there by now!". Except I don't think he said ironic because his IQ was about 5 and he blatantly wouldn't have known what the word ironic meant. And so then I was like waaaaah! And got off the bus at the next stop and tried unsuccessfully to get a taxi. And I couldn't get one, and I had no idea where on earth I was, there was no one around, no famous buildings, no shops, and I had the vague idea I was in Islington... So I did what all smart girls do in desperate situations: I began to cry. Little tears at first, quickly followed by massive sniffles and then hiccupping sobs, on the phone to my Dad.
"Daaaaaaaaaaaaad!"
"Ellie?"
"Daaaaaaaaaaad!" *sob sob* "Daaaad! I don't know where I am!"
"What!??"
"I don't know where I aaaaaaaam!"
Eventually I got a taxi, still crying incomprehensively, and managed to ask how much it would cost to get to Paddington.
"Twenty-six pounds, love."
"but I only have fifteeeeeeeeen!" *a literal wail* The taxi man did not know what to do with me, refusing to take me there for fifteen quid. I sobbed and sobbed, crying over and over again that I just wanted to go hoooome! And in the end, he took me to a cash point and then to Paddington, and I got the next train, and got home within an hour and a half. So it ended ok...but I am NEVER going to London again. Certainly not on my own anyway...
Oh, and for those who want a knee update... I kept a plaster on it for a few days and then this morning realised that it had started to grow itself to the latest plaster... So now I'm "airing it", which is gross, and I had to walk all the way around the mall with my leggings rolled up like a right dork with a weird yellow/red hole on my knee. It hasn't scabbed yet, it sort of looks like a moon crater. A really gross moon crater.
