With only 2 days left to cover off 3 tube lines the pressure was on today.
All started positively as my hacking cough ensured I had a spacious seating arrangement on the tube as it transported me across to the other side of the metropolis.
I started to feel a bit more jaded as I headed up towards city boy land and already my plan to tick off two lines this evening was beginning to seem a bit optimistic.
Running alongside pubs spilling out at the seams with pinstriped blokes holding cold beers is not appealing to me very much at the moment. I’m quite looking forward to the return of my genteel river runs and an end to public transport, running in bus lanes and pretty much anything east of Westminster Bridge.
The new Garmin wasn’t performing very well either. Out in the sticks the 405 seems noticeably faster than the 305 but within the square mile it is equally useless, the Nokia N82 in contrast was able to pinpoint my location in seconds.
I’m going to have to do some considerable jiggery pokery with the route before I can publish the map, it didn’t lock on to a signal until I found myself wandering around a beautiful burial ground right at the city limits. Bunhill Fields hides the bones of many plague victims, tipped into unmarked pits as well as some fine memorials to notable authors such as Bunyan and Defoe.
I came out of the graveyard to find all the passers by had lost an eye. It was quite surreal, I must have passed about 10 people with either bulging eyeballs or whopping great bandages obscuring half their face. I was a little worried to proceed lest a similar fate should befall me.
Round the corner I found my explanation. No need to fear daylight attacks by the walking undead.
The Bank branch of the Northern Line was not too inspiring, apart from the dead people, and by the time I’d completed it I was losing the will to live. Walking takes too flipping long, so I bailed on the Victoria Line and went home to open my Big book of Symptoms on the tuberculosis page.