Just not cricket

It didn’t really stop raining for long enough today for there to be any cricket at the Oval. I was fortunate enough to avoid most of the rain but I did rather feel for poor Graeme, finding shelter and some sort of boredom escape.

My morning was a bit hectic following Mirinda’s decision for me to relocate to the flat at Canary Wharf for the weekend. She’d already booked the poodles into the kennel so I organised a taxi to drive us there before dropping me back at the station to catch the train…except there were no trains.

There were engineering works between Woking and just about everywhere in the world (I remember posting about these works previously…they’ve been going on for yonks) which meant a bus to Farnborough then a train from there. The signs made everyone groan as they claimed it could add 30 minutes to the journey into town.

These groans were completely misplaced. Okay, the bus trip to Farnborough was a bit longer than the train to Woking but the train into Waterloo only took 30 minutes. It’s rare that I find anything good to say about engineering works. I reckon South West Trains managed to work this one really well.

I managed to dodge the rain to arrive at the flat which was remarkably tidy and unexpectedly empty. I searched every room but there was no Mirinda. My first thought was that she had possibly gone for a swim. I searched for her little friend but it was not in the flat. She would never take her little friend swimming. I had to assume she had gone off somewhere.

Eventually I received a text saying “We’re walking around.” I knew this meant she was showing Sue and Bob around Canary Wharf. I considered going out and joining them but all I had to do was pop my head out onto the balcony to change my mind. The rain was falling lightly but steadily.

Eventually I spotted the three of them, drenched and squelchy, approaching the flat. Poor things.

We sat and had a cup of tea, a dry off and a tour of the flat. The latter took about three minutes and that includes a bit of Mirinda ramble.

Bob, Sue and Graeme were off to see Private Lives in the evening so we walked them down to the wharf to catch the ferry back to Embankment. We then wandered over to Canteen for a lovely, comforting, English dinner.

Ahhh, perfect.

There was a rather odd collection of motor boats docked where I normally see the big, sexy yachts and sailing boats. I have no idea why they were there, but it looks like some sort of floating convention.