Baker Street spelling fail

In case you’re unaware of the glaring error in this notice, it should read ‘Madame Tussauds’.
Honestly, you only have to stick your head out of the station or read one of the many tourists’ carrier bags to check the spelling…pure laziness.

Can I take this opportunity to have a rant about the aforementioned tourist attraction? [Actually, like I need to ask your permission – it’s my blog, I’ll rant about what the heck I want to rant about!] I find it intensely annoying that it draws so many tourists to the station and locality that I have to travel to six days a week. (At least – last week I managed an eight day consecutive stretch of using Baker Street station. In fact, it would’ve been 13 had I not been off sick at the start of this week.) Why do so many people feel the compulsion to look at wax models of celebrities? It’s baffling.

Tourists don’t get tube etiquette – like standing on the right on the escalators. It’s ok though, because as I walk down them, I call out “excuse me” loudly so anyone can understand my meaning. [That’s using the British rule of not attempting to use any other language, simply increasing the volume of my speech.]

Tourists also like to take photos of the Sherlock Holmes statue outside the station. There’s not a lot of space on that particular walkway and I don’t have time first thing in the morning to pause and wait for photos to be taken. As a result, there are probably photos all over the world of me passing through shots of the man in the Deerstalker.

Actually, it’s not just a space thing – if I’m using that exit (rather than the one on my office’s side of the road) in means I’m in a lazy mood as it involves two escalators instead of one escalator and three flights of stairs. Thus, I’m even less inclined to make concessions. In fact, if I’m on a rant, I’d like to complain that for three weeks of July I was forced to use this exit because of engineering work, meaning I had to put up with it out of necessity, not choice.

Urgh. Apologies. Rant over….for now.

The only good thing about Madame Tussauds is that its café is a Café Nero which is open to the public. I can get to its counter and back to my desk in about 10 minutes which is incredibly handy for a mid-afternoon Chai Latte pick me up. It’s just slightly disconcerting that in doing so, I have to pass a fake Gordon Ramsay and Jamie Oliver. Oh, and the queue comes in handy from time to time.

I’m writing this the night before I potentially go back to work after the aforementioned sick days. As I type, the thought of the morning’s angst-ridden commute is definitely making me feel unwell again. Hmph.

Post-Edit: I came to work. Baker Street was hell. 

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