I've been getting a little bit of stick over last nights adventures.
I woke up and discovered that The Brat has stuck post-it notes all over the house, leaving instructions as to how to get downstairs, get to the bathroom, the kitchen etc.
The Mothership nearly wet herself laughing at me.
But the thing is I've always had a bad sense of direction.
I remember getting a bus to Woolwich when I lived in the Estate and me and Oldest Friend, thinking quite reasonably to pick up the 53 from The Standard rather than Charlton Village.
We went to New Cross before realising our mistake...
Another time me and B went to see Independence Day, this was when Well Hall still had a cinema.
We tried to get on a bus that would take us back to Shooters Hill.
We went via Crystal Pal-arse.
Ok so these were when I was quite young, so little misadventures can be explained away.
But Earlier this year I was coming home for football and saw that in a minute there was a train to Blackheath.
Whoo I thought, and walked up to the platform.
The Train went to Mottingham before I realised my mistake...
I was kindly rescued by a man who had been released from Belmarsh earlier that week, I didn't dare ask what he had done to get locked up!
In my defence I'd like to point out that I spend about 9 months of the year at the moment in Derby so little mistakes in commuting should be expected and as of yet I have not got lost between Derby and London Bridge, so you know I'm not that bad!