Today I was once again bested by my nemesis; La Paloma Del Diabolo, more commonly known as the Devil Pigeon.
The humble pigeon is a creature of pestilence generally. It is called a rat with wings but really carries more chances of disease than the average rat. It also much more stupid; you will often see a pigeon with a mangled foot or broken wing - how often do you see a lame rat? The average pigeon will annoy commuters, cooing around their ankles tempting a chance kick only to hop out of reach at the last minute. They will crowd those trying to get a bit of fresh air with their lunch, the one time you would not want to be surrounded by pigeons. They cover all available space with grey guano, ruining the vista for everyone. They are nothing but pests. La Paloma Del Diabolo is in a league of its own.
I had to power walk to have a hope of catching my train (I decided to try to catch an earlier train than usual to avoid the half term squeeze. South West Trains have decided that the half 6 train only needs 3 carriages instead of the usual 6 for this week. No idea why, its ridiculous). I wore flats, heels stashed in my shoulder bag, to give me a little extra pace. Unfortunately the traffic lights were against me and the train was pulling into the station as I crossed the overpass. La Paloma was waiting.
La Paloma is the pigeon who craps on your shoulder on the way to the biggest meeting of your year. It is the bird that tempts the favourite pet to run out in front of the speeding teenager that second too late to swerve. It is the one that carries the bubonic plague only to infect a rat as a smear campaign. And this Devil Pigeon was waiting underneath the overpass for me.
As I jogged lightly and classily (read ran like a crazy person) La Paloma Del Diabolo waited. Waited until I had reached ultimate velocity to scuttle out in front of me. It didn't fly away, no, it stopped, looked me in the eye and shifted so that it was directly under my foot. Me, my laptop, polystyrene cup full of branded coffee and the rest of my life (handbag) went a*se over tit over Devil Pigeon. I used my latent rugby skills (I played once upon a teen) and dived, saving my laptop and avoiding a coffee coloured disaster. Pencil Skirts were not designed for such a move. My Pencil Skirt shredded itself.