I have New Zealand friends visiting London right now, while we’re also in the middle of a tube strike, worst timing. It took me an extra 40 minutes to travel four stops this morning to get to work.
They’re all excited and blinded by the London lights; “let’s go to Soho for drinks tonight!”.
I’m all “Dude! I know you’re new here, but this is not how you handle a tube strike”.
The proper protocol is to go straight home from work, lock your doors, pour half a bottle of wine and wait out the chaos. I’ve survived two of these now, and I am not keen on changing my survival techniques any time soon.
Londoners will know what I mean.
It means meetings are cancelled (not really complaining) and that we’ve even had to postpone our work ‘do tomorrow night to in a month’s time (very much unhappy).
I don’t pretend to know all the ins and outs of the tube strikes – I gave up caring the second time they put us at a standstill – by the third time it’s just a matter of coping, and carrying on as much as possible. Not seeing my friends, or drinking with work colleagues isn’t cool – but my liver is beyond happy at the break.