In message , at 10:23:36 on Sat, 9 Sep 2017,
Graeme Wall remarked:

I'm still trying to work out 18 different ways to travel between the
two by tube.

Did you include Mornington Crescent? (Reverse at Camden Town.)

But, traditionally, invoking Mornington Crescent ends the journey.

Or in this case ends the game of trying to think of more odd routes.
--
Roland Perry

On 09/09/2017 10:41, Roland Perry wrote:
In message , at 10:23:36 on Sat, 9 Sep 2017,
Graeme Wall remarked:

I'm still trying to work out 18 different ways to travel between the
two by tube.

Â*Did you include Mornington Crescent? (Reverse at Camden Town.)

But, traditionally, invoking Mornington Crescent ends the journey.

Or in this case ends the game of trying to think of more odd routes.

Is this where I quote G K Chesterton?

--
Graeme Wall
This account not read.

On 2017\09\09 10:48, Graeme Wall wrote:
On 09/09/2017 10:41, Roland Perry wrote:
In message , at 10:23:36 on Sat, 9 Sep
2017, Graeme Wall remarked:

I'm still trying to work out 18 different ways to travel between
the two by tube.

Â*Did you include Mornington Crescent? (Reverse at Camden Town.)

But, traditionally, invoking Mornington Crescent ends the journey.

Or in this case ends the game of trying to think of more odd routes.

Is this where I quote G K Chesterton?

Only if you want us to know what the hell you're talking about ;-)

On 09/09/2017 18:58, Basil Jet wrote:
On 2017\09\09 10:48, Graeme Wall wrote:
On 09/09/2017 10:41, Roland Perry wrote:
In message , at 10:23:36 on Sat, 9 Sep
2017, Graeme Wall remarked:

I'm still trying to work out 18 different ways to travel between
the two by tube.

Â*Did you include Mornington Crescent? (Reverse at Camden Town.)

But, traditionally, invoking Mornington Crescent ends the journey.

Or in this case ends the game of trying to think of more odd routes.

Is this where I quote G K Chesterton?

Only if you want us to know what the hell you're talking about ;-)

Chesterton's poem, The Rolling English Road:

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
*The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.*

I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.

His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.

My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green

--
Graeme Wall
This account not read.