Suddenly I See

When we were in sunny Seville, I told Dune that I had discovered two things about her and that I was going to make sure I blogged about them. The first was that completely unlike me she not only had a good sense of direction, but an almost uncanny internal compass -- without needing to really try, she would often know exactly where we were and how to get where we needed to be. I would say something like "Stop -- weren't we meant to go the other way down the street?" and she'd gently point out that we were going the other way to normal.

The other discovery was that her moral compass might just have got a little bit off course -- and that perhaps it had been exposed to a magnet at some point. We were discussing her proposed laser eye surgery, and how she was going to have x-ray vision as a result of it -- and how she planned to use her power for evil. I was shocked, as you might imagine, and insisted in a similar position I would only use my powers for the good of humanity. Dune said anyone who claimed such a thing was either delusional, a liar, or both -- and that spying on people's underwear was the way forward.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks to this past Saturday -- the big day of Dune's surgery. She had asked me earlier if I wouldn't mind accompanying her, since she would need someone to help her get home; I refused to let her give it another moment's thought, of course I would go. Dune was a little concerned that I'd have to amuse myself for a few hours while she was in there and recovering, but I insisted that wasn't something she should concern herself with. I figured I could go watch a film, or find a bookshop on Charing Cross Road where I could read poetry, or any number of things.

Naturally, Dune was a little apprehensive on the day -- it sounded like a frightening procedure, even if it was to be the very definition of quick and painless. We found the place with the slightest trouble with locations, and on arriving found it wouldn't be the 2 - 3 hours we anticipated, but more like 90 minutes. They also helpfully left it to this point to mention that Dune shouldn't take the Tube after the surgery, because it was "dirty". Okay, fair enough, they might have a point -- but being located in central London might it not have been helpful to mention this sooner?

Don't get me wrong, I like catching the bus. I actually prefer bus journeys in London to tube journeys because there's more to look at, and if the bus breaks down at least you can just get off and walk. But they take forever. The traffic is always terrible, then there's always road works on top of that, and in the end you wonder if it would be quicker to walk. It's not quicker to walk from Tottenham Court Road to Liverpool Street station, if anyone is wondering -- I've not done it, but I did consider it once, and worked out I'd be better of just sleeping under my desk in the office.

If there is one good thing to be said for them waiting until almost the last minute to mention this Tube aversion, it was that at least it would give me something to do while I waited. I considered an internet cafe, but instead sent off a hasty text message to AQA asking for bus details since I figured it would cost just the same, and someone else could do the leg work. Turns out I would have been better off working it out for myself, since although they told me what bus to get from what bus stop, it wasn't quite as detailed as it might have been.

While Dune was going under the knife, I walked to Leicester Square -- about a minute away from where I was working in PR around this time last year -- and grabbed lunch at Hamburger Union. The food is very good quality, but unfortunately I don't think the price tag quite matches the increase in quality. Go into Burger King, you can get your bacon-cheeseburger with chips and a coke for less than a fiver, go to Hamburger Union and they might be made from freerange cows who live happy lives in lush valleys, served on rustic bread with ears, and real chips that look and taste like chips and aren't frozen -- but the price doubles. I should have gone to Subway on Charing Cross Road and just got a steak and cheese with green peppers.

I was just leaving the burger joint when Dune called to say she was finished with the surgery and I was welcome to come back. I made haste to get back, and was led to a quiet, dimly lit room, where people including Dune were sombrely sat in their dark glasses. Nobody seemed very happy, although I wanted to tell the man who seemed to be there with his girlfriend that now was not the best time to complain to her about the cost of their taxi home.

Dune and I set off before too long to find the bus stop, and although Dune could actually see (I was unsure if she would be able to or not, at first), the biting wind and the dust wasn't making it a very pleasant experience for her to be outside, and she let me know that it would be appreciated greatly if we could find this bus stop as soon as humanly possible. At this point -- not being entirely sure where our bus stop was -- I thought again how it might have been better to have worked these things out for myself first of all. Luckily, one bus stop had a map on the wall of the shelter and I was able to establish we wanted to be on Oxford Street.

Back we walked, the way we came, and Dune was particularly unimpressed that we had to walk past the fountains at Centre Point, which were spraying in her face and her eyes because of the wind. Luckily, I escaped a beating when I found our bus stop, and we didn't have to wait too long for our carriage. The bus journey of course took forever -- and I think Dune had her eyes closed when I was pointing out St Paul's Cathedral -- but to its credit, it got us to the very door of Liverpool Street Station. Better yet, our platform was just at the bottom of the escalators, and a train was ready and waiting for us.

Even in her weakened state, Dune was telling me how much clearer her vision now was -- but her leisure activities were greatly restricted. There was to be no television, no reading, and no computers. Luckily, she was allowed to drink wine otherwise we agreed she might as well just end it all... We also later found that Dylan Moran's stand up is perfectly reasonable to listen to as a kind of radio show. I can personally vouch for Eddie Izzard's suitability for this, too. Both benefit from the visuals, but if you've got a heap of imagination they work very well as sound-only. Not only does Dune have imagination, but she also now has X-ray vision, which she plans to use for nefarious purposes. So be warned.