Are the Docklands Ruining My Life?

The trek home after 12:30am doesn't really bare thinking about.

It seems to average about 2 hours by nightbus no matter where in I am in London unless I wait for the first trains in the morning.

The only route is the N50 from Hell. It winds all across the Isle of Dogs (including through all of Canary Wharf in detail)and zig zags all through Beckton before heading to Galleons Reach 1hr and 20 minutes after leaving the centre. From there I still have 10 minute walk home.

The service is only every half hour from the most obscure bus stop in Trafalgar Square. The alternative is catching the N15 to Canning Town and wait for an N50 there, which can shave time off the journey. Providing you can actually GET on an N15, which always seems to pack out before I can get on it.

So what happens is that I am loathe to stay anywhere past midnight. Like Cinderella I run from the ball at the stroke of midnight before my ride home turns into a pumpkin.

My friend Nik celebrated his 30th on Saturday night. At the stroke of midnight they brought out his cake while the anthem of his beloved Liverpool FC "You'll Never Walk Alone" engulfed the bar and we all sang and hugged. And then I ran out the door fearful of missing the last train back to North Woolwich and committing myself to a 2 hour journey home (travel and waiting time to Trafalgar Square included.)

It's hard to leave a party while it is in full swing and your friends are all still there (some like Arwen just arriving!) dancing away until the early hours.

The up-side was that Tim does come out and meet me at the station to walk me home. There was still time to have a cuddle and a drink before bed (actually I watched Match of the Day, which he recorded for me.)

There wasn't much of a hangover to contend with either but it'd be nice to go out and not have to clock watch.