Am I a Londonder now?

All was well until I got to London Bridge Station and saw the masses of people milling around. OK, I thought, rush hour, and made my way to the usual entrance. Which was closed. A policeman told us to use the other entrance, so back we went, up a stairwell, and into the bus station towards the main entrance. Which was closed. Of course, no-one knew what the heck was going on, until we overheard a station person tell the policeman that there had been a fatality, half of the trains weren't running, and the station concourse had been closed due to overcrowding.
OK, so no train home tonight for me, no problem, I'll take the bus (another reason why I am happy to live where I do). However, I still needed to get to platfor 16 and the station manager's office, because next to it are the mailboxes for the document exchange, only there was no getting into the station in the usual way.
Platforms 1-6, on the other hand, were still open and operational. And of course there are ways to get from those platforms to platform 16.
By the way, did I mention the main part of the station had been closed due to overcrowding? Those crowds were still all in the station, and getting from Platform 1 to Platform 16 took me about 15 minutes. 15 crowded, elbow-pushing minutes. Getting out again, and out of the station, took another 15.
Being of less than average height, I am not the perfect being to be stuck in huge crowds of annoyed people. I was never so glad to leave a train station.

Of course, I was not the only one who had the bright idea to take a bus, and the first one was too packed for me and others to get into, while the second one was just empty enough for me to squeeze in and spend my journey unafraid of falling down. None of us would be falling down. There was no room to fall.

A fatality. I feel sorry for the guy/gal, but I sure hope it wasn't a suicide, because the thoughts of hundreds, if not thousands, of annoyed and angry Londoners would have banished the fatality's soul to eternal torment for disrupting their journey home.
And I am sorry to say that at that time, I felt more annoyance than pity.

On the bright side

Literally, for once. As I got home, I saw two little packages lying in front of my door, with compliments from British Gas, one addressed to "The Occupier", one to someone who used to live here I know not when. Both packages contain four energy-saving light bulbs, two 60- and two 40- Watt ones.
That's what I call customer service.