Americans

Last night on the way back from work I bumped into this poor lost soul standing at the bus stop. It wasn't my bus stop mind, but he was lost and I decided to help him.

He proudly proclaimed that he was from LA, which may go someway to explaing why he was standing on the side of the road at 1am, in winter, in London, wearing nothing but a tatty grey track suit (the type everyone had when they were kids), trainers... and admitting that he just spent his last 20p on ice-cream. ICE CREAM FOR EFFING SAKE! It's freezing arctic cold outside, he's dressed for a jog on the beach, and he spends his final bit of dough on ice cream?! The sheer mentality of some people... I don't know... I give up.

So there I am in my coat, hands firmly thrust in the depths of my pockets, trying to help this poor bloke on his way home. That ended up being quite simple really. He was on the wrong side of the road, and the stop he was at wasn't services by a night bus. Of course helping him meant that I missed my last bus home and had to walk. Again. But never mind that. Poor me.

Laters.