Back in 2015, I remember having a discussion with my younger brother, Nathan, about the best ways of getting about. We were both broke, therefore didn’t own cars, so the options were either public transport, or on foot.
Nathan had always used public transport, and in his arrogance, reckoned that he was pretty good at it; even if it did mean taking odd routes at times and tricky connections. I reasoned that as a runner, I could just set off in that instant, and would be unaffected by bus schedules, or unexpected delays. I would most likely win.
So we then went ahead and checked the bus timetable for the Cat & Fiddle pub where we had both been staff at one point, or other. There wasn’t one due for another 45 mins; and that’s if it was running on time, or indeed didn’t just get casually cancelled, as they do sometimes. I fancied my chances if it came to a race.
So we did.