Scarper from work at 11:20 and head to Ealing Broadway. Why? Because I have been told I am shortlisted for one of the flats in a shared ownership scheme in Camden. Of course, the papers are full of the government's tinkering with the financial mess, and full of advice not to buy, but rent. Still, that's what you mostly do with shared ownership.
Arrive in good time, so after digesting a subway I go through the administrative process. Some small talk on libraries being made redundant by the internet, and discover I have just cleared one of the hurdles (and reading between the lines) am probably making up the numbers. If all is fair, then I have 40% odds of making it to the next stage. Not bad, but not quite what I had in mind.
Back to Simon for a haircut. We talked a bit about the above. He said he and his partner were thinking of the same, but that neither hairdressers nor my esteemed profession are considered key workers. After the process, I resemble a Yeti, until I shake off all the hair clippings. Costs a bloody fortune, but the intangibles of a friendly place to get it cut, someone who really cares about his work, and a good end result make it worth it. Hurrah for Karines.
Then decide I should head home and edit some chapters. But no, damn it. Decide to make use of my RSA fellowship and head for their library (why didn't I kill 45 mins. there earlier?). Full of the usual suspects, all wonks and Will Hutton Wannabes, and was that Shirley Williams? Great place to work and kick the heels for a bit, though. Look at what looks like the new blog and take out some books on the Bill of Rights, and suchlike.
Then back on the Brompton (Condor given a rest because of multi-modal excursion). Coming up Charing Cross Road, the traffic is held up (and remember I went to cycle training last night), so I overtake on the right. Mostly looking at the bus lane, then I notice too figures in front
"Look out," shouts I.
Crash. Down he goes.
"Are you ok? Sorry?" goes the woman with the man.
We are all a bit startled. Brompton came to a graceful halt, but only after brain makes the decision that I have to shoulder check the guy who is stepping into the traffic without looking both ways. We make it to the pavement. Time speeds up again, and they've gone. All I could think was 'please don't hit your head'. Commandeer a London Lite and get my chain back on, then make it home, via a bit of a rest in PC World in a Bluetooth mouse hunt. A bit shaken, but no real harm done, I think (leg still sore, though). Apart from not overtaking (and why not?), fitting caliper brakes on the B, or going slightly slower, not sure what else I could have done. Swerve? For some reason, the brain discounted this. Suspect I would have taken them out sideways and gone down with them. Half wonder if they were in my frontal blind spot that Richard Dawkins has told me about.
Now, must edit.
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