21 April 2016, 8 pm
Now I am spent. This is a rather melodramatic way of saying I am tired and I have had enough of it. I figure you are allowed to be melodramatic if you are a President, and especially if you are not getting paid. I left the Imposters in IP to eat, drink and be networked, and I set off on my long journey home. I dragged my rucksack, my suitcase and my backache to Holborn station. It was closed for overcrowding, which is like being closed for refurbishment only without anything to look forward to. So I dragged my rucksack, suitcase and backache along the crowded route to Tottenham Court Road. My back started to shout at me. My feet started to grumble. I got a tube; I walked some more (including up several flights of stairs); I paid my 30p at Paddington to wrestle my suitcase round cubicle doors, for the privilege of spending a penny or 30 and washing my hands. I bought a sandwich. I lugged my screaming back and bits of luggage and sandwich onto a crowded train. The train took me westwards for 90 minutes or so and then chucked me out at Bristol Parkway, so that I could further entertain myself with a long drive down the M5. If this sounds like a massive whinge, well, it is. I never want to take a suitcase to London again. I love CIPA to bits, but I must have been out of my mind to take this job on from a Wess Curntry base.
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