This morning, I'm backing out of my drive. Which is not great when you live on a main road, but is a hell of a lot worse now I have a bus shelter blocking my view on oncoming traffic. Note that that's bus shelter, not bus stop; despite two letters, I've heard nothing from Transport for London about removing the bus shelter, or the advertising, or answers to any of my queries. After my brief wave of community spirit at the weekend after spying a resting old lady, I'm back to my usual angry self. It's like the beginning of the Hitchiker's Guide. Remember? Arthur Dent wakes up to bulldozers outside his house and the plans have been in the municipal library for months.
Anway, as I back out, unaware of pedestrians, as they are now efficiently - nay, dangerously - blocked from my sight, I narrowly miss two police people (a man and a woman, although I don't think they're a couple). "Careful", they exclaimed in unison - OK, only for comic/fictional effect - "that bus shelter's in a very stupid place. You can't see anything."
"Tell me about it," I responded, through my wound down window.
Ahh, the good old day's off community policing. Although David mailed me this afternoon about some rucus across the road from my house last night, but I heard nothing. Nada.
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