Magical farewell tour

In this town you get some strange looks when you start angrily shaking your fist at the sky. It's just my way of saying goodbye.

I'm on my way to Wheathampstead for yet another training course, and my last journey out of Watford is not going well. I spent an hour at the bus stop outside my flat before getting an obscure branch line to St Albans. I've spent another hour out here, my course started ten minutes ago, and I'm no closer to getting the bus I need. On the bright side it's stopped raining.

Two and a half years of taking Hertfordshire public transport and I'm still no closer to figuring it out. Either I'm really bad at buses or it really is jusl the system. And although I'm going to miss Brother's place, I'll be happy to give up this particular game. I know transport in london ain't great, but compared to Watford, bring it on.

I need some boxes.