Those sales people in the station concourses are annoying. They’re all about 15, and stand by their little cardboard booths advertising Amex, shouting out “How are you?” and gesticulating wildly as you rush past.

Ditto the charity people, most of whom seem to be British backpackers, standing on street corners with clipboards, wearing today’s charity t-shirt over their clothes, shouting out greetings.

It doesn’t seem to have occurred to these people that you’re in a hurry to get somewhere. To work, going home, or trying to get that train that’s not going to wait for you. While I don’t have much sympathy for the Amex people, occasionally there’ll be a charity which is actually a worthy cause, and I might consider actually talking to.

If I wasn’t in a hurry.

It occurs to me that these people might get a little more “business” if they were willing to walk with you as they talked.

Not that I’m inviting any 15-year-old reps from Amex or obscure charities to follow me down to my train. I’ve got enough credit cards, thank you.

Woken up early this morning by this idling, rumbling outside my door at 6:40.

Thankfully it’s not some Hitchhiker’s Guide scenario.

The house they’ve been ripping into is down the street. On Tuesday morning it was there. By dinner time it was gone, a flat piece of land with three big trucks parked on it.