I'm sure everyone has had their fair share of pointless journeys, but at the same time I'm convinced that no-one else in the world has them quite as often as I do. Ironically enough, writing an article about each of these journeys does in fact give them a purpose, albeit a simple and previously unintended one.

It was Friday evening and I was on my way to the pub. Not the nearest one to where I live, nor the second... it's probably somewhere near the hundred mark to be honest. Anyone with common sense would be able work out the obvious way to get there - walk to Finsbury Park, then a ten minute train journey to Palmers Green station from which they would be able to saunter off to the pub and arrive with a couple of minutes to spare. The whole thing would take less than half an hour if I timed my departure correctly, which I did.

However, I have no common sense and I happened to wander past a bus stop as a half-empty 29 was stopping there. For some reason I felt the urge to jump on the bus, and then congratulated myself on having saved the train fare and got a window seat. Ten minutes later, the train left without me on it; meanwhile, I was sitting on the number 29 which had only gone and got itself stuck in traffic right next to the station, but refused to let me out. Trying to justify my actions, I compared the bus's progress to an old bloke with a walking stick who seemed to be heading in the same direction. He overtook us twice in the next ten minutes, stopping right next to my window to rub his knee joints on his second pass. By the time I got to Manor House I was truly fed up and getting close to actually being late. I caught the tube, where the fact that the whole carriage smelt of the tramp in the corner was balanced out by the fact I was actually going somewhere. Having my next brilliant idea, I got off at Bounds Green - afterall, I'd never been there. I had no idea that I was only a mile from the pub, and so I waited for twenty minutes for a 102 to turn up. I hopped on, and the bus started off along the North Circular. Pleased with my progress, I promptly fell asleep.

I opened my eyes again to find I had absolutely no idea where I was. I waited for a few minutes to see if the bus went past anything familiar, but anyone who knows what any particular London suburb looks like will know that it looks just like every other suburb within the M25. I got off the bus to find myself faced with a gigantic roundabout and a map telling me I was in the Back of Beyond, aka Edmonton Cambridge Roundabout. I spent the next fifteen minutes running through subways and worrying that I was being followed by unsavoury characters, but there was absolutely no one around - at least in central London you can ask people for directions while they mug you. Giving up all hope of retaining my pride, I sent a text message to the friend who was waiting at the pub:

Fell asleep and missed stop, in middle of f*****g nowhere. Will keep you posted.

I soon got a call and was told to catch the W6, and after ten minutes of shivering, one turned up. For one final encore, I managed to miss the stop right outside the pub, and had to drag myself back up the street again. I found the people who had already been there for the 55 minutes I had wasted, just to hear the words 'good thing you got here in time - we're just about to go off to the Springfield - don't know if you've heard of it - it's in Bounds Green...'

At least I got a hangover the next day - I'd hate to have gone to all that effort for nothing.

The Most Pointless Journeys of My Life Archive

AlexAshman

09.02.06 Front Page

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