Walked to work today, and feel like I’m going to pass out. Am I really so unfit? Probably. But after last night’s Actionettes rehearsal, I was still hepped up and full of swingin’ dance energy, so I put my Actionettes CD on and bopped across the river. When I got to Westminster I noticed that there were people sitting in parks listening to headphones. Walking along listening to headphones. Glancing around, while listening to headphones. I came to the logical conclusion that they were all spies, and not listening to music at all, but being fed information about dodgy-looking folk loitering near the Houses of Parliament. I considered pausing at the entrance to Downing Street, surveying the skies in a frowny manner, and muttering into my watch, but I didn’t much fancy the thought of spending all day at the police station. Although at least I wouldn’t have had to come to work, where it is busy and I am bugged all day by fools.
My arms felt all greasy, so I scrubbed at them with some toilet paper. The paper came away grey with dirt. As my walk to work is almost entirely along traffic-clogged main roads, this shouldn’t surprise me, but it’s still pretty foul to realise that your skin is covered in exhaust from idling cars.