Running for a bus in Crouch End last week (and pleasantly surprised to find that I could still run reasonably fast) I spoilt it all by falling over, grazing my wrist, and cutting my upper lip.

Why share this apparently inconsequential information?  Partly because it’s a blog, and blogs started as places to record mundane matters.  Partly because in the remote possibility that anybody who sat next to me on the bus ride, or the tube ride immediately following, is reading this, I’d like to point out that yes, I had been in a fight, it was with a bus stop, and it’s a slightly moot point which of us won.

And also to make a usability point.  Having arrived in Oxford Street I went into the Gents in a well-known large department store, to clean myself up and banish the battle-scarred look.  Which was great once I’d overcome the challenge of finding out how to turn on the high-tech taps provided for hand-washing.


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