Waiting and Walking

Beyond the paywall is a short film celebrating queer history, a discussion about a failed damages case, a documentary about a trail blazer and a must see play...in the cinema. Come have a read....

---

We knew it was coming and talked about it a lot. They don’t usually strike on all lines but this time they were attempting to grind London to a halt.

Buses it is then!

Taxies and Ubers for the rich and those that had time to sit in traffic. Push bikes were dusted off as the fair weather cyclists took to the streets. Lime bikes never felt so popular.

Plan your journey to work. Most routes will be heavily congested. Buses will be full. Leave extra time.

My week of walking and waiting started on Sunday night. Desperate to hop on the tube and quickly get home I resigned myself to the fact that there would be no getting anywhere quickly this week.

I walked to the bus stop. It was a beautiful balmy evening and for some reason the streets were buzzing.

Who were all these people out on a Sunday night at 10pm?!

Were they clinging onto the last of the Summers warmth or were they clinging onto the last of a stress free commute? As I crossed the expanse of Covent Garden I looked up and marvelled at the huge moon. The Lunar moon or the Blood moon…or maybe it was the Corn moon. Whatever moon was up there was shining down on us so brightly. Not a cloud in the sky.

What weird and wild things will happen with this full moon?

I missed a bus so waited for the next one.

My journey home wasn’t so bad. A little longer than usual. I got a seat. Read my book. Nothing to complain about.

On Monday the same thing happened. My journey into town the same as usual. The journey home a little longer. Got a seat. Read my book. The weather was playing ball. Sunshine and good temperatures. Temperatures that mean you’re not mad to be walking a little further and waiting a little longer.

Tuesday I was in work early and planned to leave the house earlier. The plan didn’t go to plan. I left at the same time I normally do in a flurry of annoyance. As I walked through my estate my usual route was cordoned off by the police. I turned and walked around to another route through. This too was maned by the police denying me access

Oh please! I live here. I should be able to walk through my own estate so I can get to work!

I silently cursed the police but really cursed myself for not leaving earlier. I walked around the whole of the estate adding precious walking time to my commute.

Day three of the strike I had planned well. No way was I even going to attempt to get a bus home at 5pm.

What fool do you take me for?

I’ve lived here long enough to know the rules of the commuting game. Regardless of a strike that rush hour commute is hell. After 7 hours of standing in a restaurant I’d again be standing on a bus for at least another hour….If I managed to get on one. The waiting would be excruciating. There would be no seat and no reading. No more patting myself on the back for planning my journeys well. I would have failed exponentially.

At 5.15pm I was having drinks at a rooftop bar. Then there was dinner in a gorgeous new restaurant below. By 10pm with a belly full of steak and wine I cursed the 59 that whizzed past me two minutes from my bus stop only to be sat on one three minutes later. A spacious place to sit and precious time to read my book.

I’m not sure I could be navigating this strike any better.

There was a white piece of paper poking out of my letterbox when I got home.

Dear Resident,

Re: The recent shooting incident on Monday 8th September 2025