Escape from London...

One and a half miles, as the duck flies, from Contrary Towers there is an event this evening. Which will be why I'm 82 miles away, by said duck and Clare is around about 1,000 miles away. And she has orange sauce waiting.

It's not an animosity towards the inevitable stunning sporting achievement, but more a feeling of weariness of a level of hype that is reaching rabid proportions. As I left London late this afternoon, the insanity was becoming increasingly apparent. Masses of people wandering aimlessly, copy of tube map in hand, in a vague hope that all would be well. Simultaneously, travelling the other way, the way I was going, was those that wanted to actually escape.

I know I'll be back Sunday evening and will have to deal with the ongoing daily agony for a couple of weeks,  but I could at least get away briefly.

Central Line. Empty.

The strangest part of the day was this morning, I actually chose to go to Notting Hell, not to see a client, but to pick something up in between calls. Mile End was amazing, a modern Marie Celeste, empty platforms, empty Central Line trains, empty District Line, empty Hammersmith & City Line. Weird.

District Line. Empty.

Some hours later, at a little after 3, I was back, it was even quieter. There was me and one other person on the carriage. At 3:02pm. The afternoon. London. Huh?

It really was the lull before the storm.

Hammersmith and City... WTAF?

I do hope that all goes well. I do hope it's a roaring success and the country as a whole doesn't look ridiculous. And that there really is a legacy that makes this insanity worthwhile.

And above all that I hope that after the games we won't hear Boris every 2 minutes at the stations.

Good luck London, I'll see you on Sunday evening.