On Friday, when I made my dash for freedom-from-piano-teaching, I hit Victoria Station at around 5pm, the beginning of the rush hour. It wasn't packed with "real" commuters then, more like large numbers of people-on-the-move, many towing bags-on-wheels.
This were strongly reminiscent of various adventures I had watched on TV involving the Top Gear presenters and rage against caravanners. Things like "why do caravanners always go so slowly" as yet again I nearly tripped over the towing handle/bar/line separating the person from their luggage. Or "why do they always go too fast" as my shins were viciously attacked by an out-of-control cabin bag which was trying to overtake the thoughtless traction units (aka idiot people) charging recklessly through the crowds.
This uncontrollable urge to take surreptitious kicks at the suitcases and bags in passing was growing so strong that my companion was getting worried. Any moment we were likely to be picked up on CCTV and detained by yellow-jacked security officers for anti-social activities .
It was a near thing, but luckily we made it out of the station before anything really drastic took place. Travelling by bus proved to be a much better idea than battering our way through the tube tunnels. Once I had cleared a path through various obstacles we we able to take our seats. At last we, or maybe it would be truer to say, the luggagers, were safe from further potential incident.
At least, until we got off at Oxford Circus.
But that's another story.