Training For The Olympics
Yesterday I took a train up North from King’s Cross to meet a client as part of an excercise to put a face to an email. I like riding the rails up the country, leaving London behind, watching the land turn green and my thoughts to something other than work and house stuff for a bit.
You notice more that you would in a car. I was in a carriage which was called “the quiet coach”, in which people are asked to refrain from using mobile phones and listening to walkmen. It was billed as the cabin “for thoughtful people only”, which that sounded perfect. If I’ve got anything, it’s thoughts. I may not be a grea talker, but I’ve got thoughts to burn, including that one just then.
For example, at the station there was a stack of baggage trollies under a sign saying “Self Help Trollies”. As well as carrying your bags, did they also provide pyschoanalysis? I wondered if, when you put your luggage on them, they said: “I’m more interested in how you are going to get your suitcase to move forward.”
Anyway, one of the employees was nice enough to meet me at the station and drive me to their office. At 98 miles and hour. In a soft top. In the rain. I nearly kissed the ground when we arrived in one piece and I walked into the meeting room. When a big round of applause went out, we all looked at each other and someone said: “We got it!” I can’t remember who got up first, but we all ran into the Newsroom and watched Trafalgar Square going nuts on the screens to the news that London’s will host the Olympics in 2012. Dans votre visage, Paris!
Now - on budget and on time. Hmmmm.
Sorry, to break away from our normal coverage. More stuff about Live 8 tomorrow, including a rundown of the food I ate (in order of disappearance), how long it took me to buy a cup of tea and “Portaloos: great leaps forward in little wee houses”.
Only kidding, no more Live 8, I promise.