So I decide, I have 1 week to do everything I want to do in London. Fun eh?
And so my plan slips into mega action on Monday. I lie in bed shivering (I really am ill you know) and my mother comes up all brisk and bank accountantish, hands me a flask of soup tells me not to use the phone on pain of death and then bustles out again. I lay there listening. I listen for the click clack of her high heels on the laminate, for the clunk as she drops the breakfast things in the sink and then the blissful sound that is the click of the door as it shuts and as her heels go walking down the road.
Still I continue to wait biding my time. I know for a fact that my mother also gets the 244 and I don’t want to risk bumping into her: “Oh hi mum, umm yeah I was just off to London for the day do you want anything from Harrods?”
I give it an hour then I jump out of bed and put on my jeans and a jumper, I put a think warm coat over the top (I do have flu remember!) and a pair of warm boots. It is at about this point I realise that I will get caught. It’s London for Christ’s sakes it will be crawling with policemen. Pants. I really didn’t think this through. I decide I have two choices. 1) Just risk it and stick to crowds. 2) Think of a fabulously brilliant excuse about…. now. I think and think and fail.
I decide I’m just going to have to risk it. After all, I think earnestly it is Christmas time it will probably be crawling with Christmas shoppers I can probably just slip into the crowds…. Hopefully.
I take the soup plus some sandwiches, a bag and 50 pounds cash. Hopefully I won’t get mugged. And head out of the door, shutting it with a click.
I was right about waiting; I have missed the first 244 by 10 minutes meaning it is too late for any work commuters and also the bus stop is deserted. Yay.
I wait. A car crawls past; a cat plonks itself on top of a bin, a 244 crawls into the bus stop and a 14 year old girl gets on.