The thing I've been dreading for months finally happened.
I had to take someone to London city airport today. I've done this trip before in twenty minutes. Even in rush hour it shouldn't take more than forty minutes.
Today, because of the cretins who designed the London Olympic routes, it took me over two hours and required me to drive more than twice the distance just to go to the same place. I had to drive five miles in one direction; that's me and hundreds of other cars just because they wouldn't let us turn left. And on the way, because I counted them, twenty six cars passed us on the desolated Zill lane.
By the time I finally got back I'd aged about five years, lost about five pounds (not that that's a bad thing) and used up nearly half a tank of fuel.
I don't care how much I'm offered, or threatened. I'm not doing it again. I know what I'd like to do with the buffoons who designed that route and it wouldn't be pretty.