I was intending to not write so many random posts, particularly a) First thing in the morning thereby making me late for work and b) After a few drinks last thing at night when I should be getting my Beauty Sleep.
But I'm addicted.
I spent this morning writing Karate, Ladymail, My Mum and Drinking Tonight which unfortunately made me 45 minutes late for work. Fortunately my boss was even later as his daughter had to be rushed to hospital - Result!)
So I did the day job. I met The Hobo after work and had beers, then I caught a tube home. Switching lines at Hammersmith, I boarded another tube and noticed a strange rectangular bag on a seat, so I quickly stuck my head out of the door and yelled at the tourist who had just got off.
'I think you left your bag on the tube!'
He turned to see me waving this thing at him.
'Uh, no. Not me.'
I put it back on the seat where I found it, and sat down opposite the bag, staring at it with some concern.
'Is it ticking?', said the wag who had himself just boarded.
'Hmm. Dunno. I'll check'.
So I opened it up. I could've just handed it in regardless, but it was such a curious bag that I had to know more. It was heavy considering it was only a little handheld thing, and it was perfectly oblong. How queer.
I put it on my lap as it unravelled before us.
'Oh. Bloody hell.'
There, laid out neatly, were over a dozen sharp and very angry looking knives, all lined up and ready for use; Slicers, pairers, choppers, carvers, and the Daddys, a pair of Meatcleavers.
It belonged to an absent-minded chef no doubt, but Thank God I found it instead of someone like my Karate teacher.
I handed it in when I got to my stop. I quite enjoyed approaching the bored loner of a Station Master and watching his jaw drop when I got to the unravelling stage.
So that's my good deed for the day. Plus I cheered up London Underground's finest too. He looked thrilled to be handed them, the glint of the steel enlivening the shells of madness in his eyes.