Stalker

I thought I was doing society a favour. But I got called a stalker! Well if that's what people think of me I'll turn it into a virtue.

In Amsterdam I used to donate blood. I think it's a generally good thing to do, and I even have type O-, so the bloodbank tends to eagerly agree. In Norway I didn't get around to it. But here in the UK I'm back on it. There's no fixed venue for such things here; the whole circus moves through town. And the frequency with which they visit a certain venue is lower than the frequency with which one can donate blood. So everytime I can go again the NHS have set up shop somewhere else. And well, one might get to see some parts of town one otherwise doesn't see, so I just follow them around. And the last time I donated one of the guys who often shoves the needle up my arm commented on that. He was surprised to see me at yet another location, and called me a stalker donor!

I figured I'd keep it up. So the next time I ended up in the direction of Tavistock. This involved quite some biking, lots of it on too large roads; this will probably contribute to an ongoing research project on Plymouth cyclists, where undoubtedly the vulnerability of cyclists on busy roads where the bike lanes abruptly stop will be dealt with. But I'll come back on that later.

Phil, the guy who had given me the nom de plume, soon noticed the stalker had struck again. But then again. Who would turn an O- stalker away? Next time I'll find me yet another venue! There's something like 7 more; that will keep me busy for over two years...