Some days...

The plan was simple enough. The Gorse Fox would get the train to London Bridge. It was really quite simple. he would drop down into the tube and take the Northern Line to Angel. That is simple, isn't it?

Evidently there were several variables that had not been considered. 

The Gorse Fox arrived at London Bridge early - good so far. Then he made his way to the tube entrance. Here is where it started to deviate from the plan. They had shut the gates to prevent over-crowding on the platform. Gorse Fox considered his options and decided he had time, and would queue. 15 minutes later they let us through and down to the platform. A few minutes later a train came in and filled up. The Gorse Fox decided it was too full and would await the next train. It did not, however, move. It just sat there until there was an announcement that the train in front had broken down.

Along with the rest of the throng the Gorse Fox left the, now suspended, tube and went to find a taxi. time was getting short and he was not able to be choosy. As a result he got a taxi driver who supported Arsenal. All things considered the day was looking like pants.

In fact the day picked up from there and went pretty well work-wise.

There was, somehow, an inevitability that on a day such as this there would be a coming together of painful foot with immovable furniture. Icing on the cake really.

Never mind - the Gorse Fox managed to get the favoured train.