Barry's Beef

Somewhat buoyed by a lovely day spent in Eastbourne I embarked on the obstacle course that is, of course, the London Underground of a weekend night. My mission should I decide to accept it, which given it's where I live significantly influenced my decision, was to get to Gants Hill on the Central Line - not that I live in a tube station but rather it's the closest to where I live; you get the picture.
Anyway my regular route would be to Oxford Circus and change onto the Central Line although staying on the Victoria Line through to Blackhorse Road and getting the 123 bus was a possibility - until I got on the tube and found myself within earshot, which I quickly estimated to be about two light years, of a drunken and seemingly pointless display of braggadocio from three instantly dislikeable characters. Obviously this necessitated a quick exit.
So once on the Central Line I was faced with three options - I hope you appreciate the enormity of my task: go Eastbound to Hainault via Woodford and wait for the train to go back Westbound via Gants Hill; go to Leytonstone and get the 66 bus - Mummy and Daddy Beef's favoured route - or go to Stratford and get the overland to Ilford and then the bus. Exciting isn't it?
Armed with arms and also Pat Gilbert's excellent biography of the Clash I was quite tempted to take the long route around the loop and not have to budge at all, but occasionally being of an inteprid nature, and Saturday was one of those times, I got off at Stratford and, luck be a locomotive, the Shenfield train pulled in within, at most, ten seconds. Top notch alighting! Straight through to Ilford (quick train) and get the bus immediately. Literally immediately, it was like Ken Livingstone had organised for it to be there precisely when I got off the train. Unlikely I admit but what a journey.
Being reliant on public transport certainly keeps you on your toes - much like a ballerina.