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08 Aug 2005: Castle In A Fallen Kingdom

A picture

Western Beach Apartments

The trouble with Tradewinds, amongst other things, was location.

In my pre-Japan incarnation (ah, so young, so young) I used to travel the full length of the Metropolitan line every day. Living in an abomination of a ticket zone known as Zone 6+D I rode the line every morning, every evening. The journey would last around an hour, perhaps an hour an a half on a normal day. In winter time, I would grab a copy of the Metro in the morning to pad the wall as the harsh cold metal of the carriage wall would numb my leg, turning a young City IT professional into a limping lunatic. In summer time, I would pray that the train would not be stopped in the tunnels by signal failure, as the persistent, unabated tunnel heat could result in heart failure.

Now we reside in Zone 3, not far from the ill-defined membrane that divides Central London from All Other Places. My Tradewinds commute to JP Morgan Chase was a lot more active than my heady Amersham days: bus, DLR, DLR, walk. And it would still take an hour. My God, was I cursed?

This would not do. So we moved down the road, not very far away I grant you, to Western Beach on one of the corners of the expansive Royal Victoria Dock. As we have easy access to a DLR station, the timing is much better, as I no longer have to stand and wait for a bus that would often merely shorten a 30-minute walk to a 20-minute bus commute.

In more disturbing news, I can almost enunciate "this is my wife" nowadays without doing a double take. It is obviously too late for me, I have become desensitised to the terrifying reality of marriage.