Last year was bad enough, the Square was fenced off and I saw in New Year’s Day standing under a statue just south of it; the dude’s name escapes me at the moment. This year I couldn’t even do that. I left home around 9pm and caught a bus, which I expected to be slow, certainly slower than the trains that weren’t running to London Bridge, but I was still there in more than good time.
Again, it was entirely boarded up and then some. I spent a good deal of time wandering around; best not to mention the copper who thought I was urinating outside Embankment Station – I was struggling with the seal on a flapjack packet – or the idiot who thought I was his Algerian uncle spouting nonsense as one of his female companions threw up over the westbound platform.
I saw in the New Year in Leicester Square then made my way towards Covent Garden to do my annual good deeds; I stopped at two rather than the usual six, wanting to get home, but the time the bus took to get from Charing Cross Road to Duncannon Street, I could have walked there and dispensed another four.
2022 and Al is still here. No one is more amazed than me.
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