hindsight is a twat

Despite avoiding public transport to get to work of late, I am discovering the wrath one can get immersed in when one decides to drive to work via Queens Drive, as this morning's journey demonstrated.
Personally, I have always preferred the Dock Road route to work and thus far I've had no real complaints regarding the traffic or the time it takes for me to arrive, however, two of my more learned colleagues have seriously lambasted me for my route decision. I have argued my case, but as they are locals, and Bob (one of the two said colleagues) has been traveling from South Liverpool to work for Sefton Council for some forty years, I felt obliged out of respect to his long service and vast experience.
What a load of crappola.

In 'Highway 61' , Dylan states that: 'the Highway is for gamblers', in response I agree but I would also add that 'Queens Drive is for suckers'. Better use your sense.
It just goes to show that just because someone has a superior knowledge, and experience it doesn't make them any more wise than the next man. In fact a newer, fresher approach can often be the better.
So I decided this morning, more as a whim, to travel down one of the worst road in this fair city and it took me approximately 20 minutes longer than usual. Granted, I appreciated that I could have taken a route which would involve going via Church Road and Mill Street to arrive in The Old Swan which would have saved me a significant amount of time, however, as we all know; hindsight is a twat.
For the most part of my tedious journey I was stuck in a traffic jam from hell. Forced to stare at a Renault Megane's rear end for nearly 27 minutes. Remember of course, the vehicle I am currently using has no radio and I have nothing to occupy my mind whilst I wait, expect to curse my colleagues and curse myself for not sticking to the courage of my convictions.
It seems totally crazy that people have to fight like that every morning, to get in the right lane, or prevent someone from getting in your lane ahead of you, guarding your position in the queue like a lioness guarding her cubs why do they do it?. There are so many cars too, it really makes you wonder if people were more prone to car sharing then it would rid us of half of the cars on the road.
I'm not knocking driving as a mode of transport. I actually love motorway driving and feel that's my territory.

I actually started to appreciate the small victories one gets whilst travelling via a train; getting the last seat, catching the train with seconds to spare, getting away without paying etc. Whilst driving, all the small victories are just too damned small and insignificant to be worth while tof their persuit. Take yesterday for example; I found a way of avoiding the round-a-bout on Princess Avenue/Croxteth Road/Belvedere Road. I tried this route and I could see that after executing this manouvre, I was several cars ahead of the van that was previously in front of me. A moment of great exultation soon vanished when the van pulled level with me at the Parliament Street Traffic lights minutes later. It seems so incredibly futile. At least whilst you are travelling via public transport it's you versus the system. Sometimes you beat it, other times it will beat you and you feel more secure somehow, you know what the odds are. Plus you occupy nothing but your own space rather than the protective shell the automobile provides. Human contact is unavoidable. Just knowing that in every single car that is trying to beat you to work, there is a human behind the wheel going through the same emotions as yourself, only they feel the satisfaction that they are protected from making real contact with the other commuters and therefore they can say what they want about them with no fear of reprisal. The poor bastards know no better. At least on the train you become extremely familiar with the other drones. You'll spot them elsewhere in the city outside of the setting of travelling to work and you can marvel at their civilian clothing or what their partner looks like. Sometimes, there will even be a smile or nod of acknowledgment from them. You also know that should anything awful happen like a fire, crash or bomb, then you'll be going down with them- which is oddly comforting.


If I wasn't so damned lazy, unfit and sweaty, I would love to be able to cycle/walk to work and avoid this misery. That's the loner's purest form of transport. It's just you vs the cars.

Last night 'the' Asda proved once again that domestic bliss comes at a cost. £128 to be precise.
It was a strange phenomenon, but I quite enjoyed it. I think this was partially down to the fact that I had picked up Lisa after she had got off the train (she was there with my old commuter pack...sob) so she was wanting to get back to the flat soon after another trying day at work. For some reason I really shine when people around me are miserable.
It was also a blessed relief not to be doing on a weekend as per usual.

It pretty much went without a hitch until we once again went on a quest for a baster. Can you believe that neither 'the' Asda nor Ikea sell this important item? I'm now going to have to walk to the Strand (shudder) to find one in time for Sweet Jonny's birthday tonight (don't worry-we've got him proper stuff too)I did purchase a casserole dish and managed to break some pottery whilst attempting to pick it up from the shelve, much to Lisa's embarrassment. As someone who thrives on other people's discomfort I then did a jokey-kick-under the shelves of the busted crockery, mostly for the further embarrassment of Lisa and for the general entertainment of the other shoppers who seemed to find my tomfoolery funny (ahhh I've still got it), this encouraged me to act in a hyper active and silly manner for the remainder of our time there, thus reassuring me that I can still be one of the most annoying people on the planet when I try.

It was this reassurance that helped me get the first decent nights sleep for a heck of a long time which helped me prepare for my visit to the Council's occupational health department as a result of my lengthy absense from work.