Booze cruise

After last week's debacle on the trains, I set off for the station yesterday in a somewhat fearful mood. And it was justified. A 20-minute delay, which meant I didn't get into London until 10.30. On the bright side, I had a seat, I was able to get a good 70 minutes of work done, and the Tube was empty -- I was in the office just 15 minutes after stepping off the train at Waterloo. In London commuting terms, this is known as a result.

The journey back was on time and just an hour. We'd lubricated ourselves for the inevitable commuter hell by stopping off at Ping Pong for some dim sum and booze. I had the best passion fruit and apple martini I've ever had. The fact that it's the only passion fruit and apple martini I've ever had should not detract from it's greatness. Smooth, full of flavor, and without that burning alcohol sensation that you often get from less-well-made short cocktails. It even made the incredibly loud, perky, chatty blonde on the train home bearable. OK, it didn't really, but with the help of a copy of Grazia, I was able to enter a fugue state on which she didn't impinge too greatly. PJ plugged in the headphones and watched an episode of Lost. The chap beside me shuffled through some rather nice charcoal sketches and muttered "Yes please" when Perky Blonde loudly asked her companion if he just wanted her to be quiet -- and somehow failed to ignore his response.

We then stopped off at The Old Vine for a final nightcap and to feel smug about having chosen such a lovely place to live. Hurrah for us!