Then, I was waiting for the bus, and heard that there was a bad accident near Vauxhall, and they weren't running, so I walked down to Queenstown Road and went to the Brixton LIDL, etc. On the way back, nearly two hours later, the buses were still up the Swanee, and diverted at Queenstown Road, so I had to walk from there, again, with my melty frozen stuff...Earlier, there had been a lot of sirens, police, fire,air ambulance, etc. headed towards Clapham Junction, so it looked like some major unpleasantness happened at both ends of the road,today, but there was nothing on the news, so I guess at least nobody died.
I was sniggering at the 'sourdough batards' in ASDA, and idly googling later, discovered that that's actually what you call a short baguette. Whaddya know?
It turns out that a cyclist was hit by a cement mixer at Vauxhall, yesterday, but survived,just about, hence no news coverage.
After yesterday's upsetting tirade about how I personally caused Amazy's poor health and early death, and how I'd have to make 'many changes' to the flat and my way of life to adopt again, without being a selfish monstah, R Next Door started moaning about being 'on the breadline' being unpleasant. I know, sez I, I've been there all my life...' HA!' she replied, 'I yam unable to to do ANYTHING, and yew are always going on these trips, and buying things!' This scares me, as I feel she's cursing me, and the truth is, that while I have enough to cover a bit more travel, once the last few thou of my inheritance is gone, I'll have fuck all to survive on for the rest of my days but the bare state pension. My excursions are all cheapish city breaks, as well, not exactly posh cruises to exotic climes, and I'd never had any opportunity to travel, before my mother died. Grunt. R was totally rich until whatever happened in her family happened, going skiing all the time, having horses and Afghan hounds, jetsetting with her wealthy, famous chums, etc. Ain't my fault she's poor, now. Such is life. I'm really getting in the mood to slug her.