TIRED OF LONDON

"When a man grows tired of London, he grows tired of life," said someone famous once. My guess is that it was someone who lived in a time before the London Underground. I grew tired of life, the Tube and everything, somewhere between Paddington and Edgware Road tonight, when my nose was squished into a lady's armpit.

As I've said many times before, London is for fun trips to the theatre, the dinosaurs or an open bus tour. It's not for the daily grind and it's not for work. At least not for me. I'd last a week.

What it is for on Friday nights like this, is passing through. I was on my way to King's Cross to catch a train to Ely where I'm staying with my friends for the weekend. To get there I had to cram myself into a Circle Line tube train with a thousand commuters and tourists.

I got to King's Cross and found myself staring up at the massive display boards along with everybody else. If you were heading north out of the capital tonight, you'd have been there yourself, gawping up at the digital orange letters.

I wondered what it looked like from up there; hundreds of people standing still between the islands of their suitcases and briefcases, waiting for a platform number. It must look a bit odd from above.

My platform flashed up and half the crowd went crazy. Few people have perfected the art of walking as fast as possible without it being classified as running. What's more, no other nation in the world has the ability to queue this aggressively. A crowd of people waiting for people to get off the train, yet get on it as quickly as possible, captures this quaint paradox of ours.

"Stop pushing, please stop pushing!" protested a GWR employee in a high-vis jacket, "The train in't gunna leave wivout you!"

Clickety clack went the heels while suitcases rolled over concrete and brogues tapped smartly together.

I made it to Ely then. Well, Littleport actually, just outside the great city. I texted someone to tell them where I was this weekend and I accidentally stated that I was 'staying with my fiends'. They have looked after me very well so far, so no further fiendishness is forecast.

I'm actually hoping for a really lovely, relaxing time away. This week has felt very difficult and I am immensely tired of going round the same loops in my brain.

So far in Littleport, there's been good food, a glass of wine and a roaring fire. After being squashed through London, I can't really argue with that as solution.