| Random acts |
[Jan. 31st, 2003|11:01 am] |
| [ | Feeling |
| | Childish :o) | ] |
| [ | Reading |
| | Still Conrad Russell | ] |
Walking home last night I passed the big RAC building in the industrial estate near where I live. It's some sort of administrative office or something, not a repairs depot. Outside is a slim sign, like a ten foot high credit card stuck in the ground, with the RAC logo on it. It was caked with driven snow, an even half inch deep all over it, totally obscuring the writing.
A blank canvass. Irresistable.
It was the work of a moment to write in large letters "Join the AA". Not exactly the mark of a master anarchist, I know, but it appealed to my sense of humour.
This morning, when I walked past in the other direction, it had been altered: the snow-writing now read "Join the RAC".
Thus are the battles between brands fought out in this brave new world of ours.
(Note to US readers: the Royal Automobile Club and its deadly rival the Automobile Association are breakdown, recovery and lobbying organisations for motorists. I've belonged to both at different times over the last 15 years.)
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| Shambles |
[Jan. 31st, 2003|04:10 pm] |
London has collapsed into chaos today, weighed down by snow and the aftermath of Saturday's Tube crash.
One of my colleagues waited for and hour and a half for a train before giving up and going to the dentist instead (less painful, no doubt). Another queued for half an hour just to get into his local station and then had to let five trains go by before he could squeeze into one. Yet another, four months pregnant, lives by the Central Line and so is totally stuffed: her husband was driving her to a mainline station, past overturned buses, when they got stuck in the snow and had to be dug out.
But the boss had the best tale of all, from last night. He emerged from a restaurant at 10.30pm and waited for a bus. After ninety minutes with no sign of one and a rapidly freezing four-person queue, a dodgy-looking minicab pulled over and they all piled in - only to find that the driver appeared never to have driven in snow or ice before and was terrified. In the end my boss took over, driving the cab all over north London to return his fellow sufferers to their homes and then slipping the driver some sort of financial reward to help him recover from the experience.
Honestly, one bit of snow (and, admittedly, a rail crash too) and this city descends into something out of Monty Python. |
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