Blimey, I have a blog...

I like to describe myself as a portfolio person, renaissance woman, multi-tasking and multi-faceted. There are those that say I lack focus,am unable to concentrate, and have phases and fads I shall grow out of.

Today I happened to catch the Tube with an old old friend. I have known him since the Angel by-election, when he was a member of The Creche as Ted Knight* so memorably described it. We lost the Angel by-election, possibly because of that headline on the Nine O'Clock News because of corruption in Lambeth Housing. Fifteen years ago. At one stage, this friend and I used to spend a lot of time together - he was a councillor between 98 and 02. In o2 a great number of people stood down or were defeated in the polls, and some physically moved away. This friend lives on the same road as me and works near where I work. But we rarely see each other, just the occasional encounter in passing. Naturally, we launched into a heated discussion about the Deputy Leadership. It has occurred to me that maybe I ought to apply some thought and not waste my vote.

A woman got on at Stockwell and came to stand near us. My friend A saw her book,and announced - to me, to her, to the Tube carriage - "If you want a real raunchy read, Philippa Gregory's the one to read - The Other Boleyn Girl - lots of oral sex. I teach history and my Year 9s love it!" For a moment I feared this woman would think A was some weirdo pervert, which he absolutely isn't, but she laughed and said "And I suppose they then go and practice what they read." A few minutes later, after I had left them, I thought, if this woman has a blog, how would she write it - there were these two people on the Tube and one moment they're discussing Blair's legacy and Jack Straw being sacked for maintaining dialogue with Iran and Syria, and the next the man is talking to me about oral sex, and the woman suddenly disappeared at Vauxhall."

* aka Red Ted, ultra vires Leader of Lambeth Council in the 80s**

** it's really about time that I wrote some of my Lambeth memories before they disappear and I slip into my anecdotage.