Arriving at Hammersmith station, I had all intentions to take the Piccadilly line to head towards Victoria. Somehow within my brain, the blue line was defined as a formidable line that will bring me to anywhere. As usual, I did not plan in advance and thought I could have easily figured out the way when I reach the station.

To my surprise, I realised that the green line leads directly to Victoria. Recalling a previous incident, I distinctly remembered that it was a very short journey. Hence after a slight hesistation, I opted for the District line. I took a hard look at the estimated arrival and wondered how long it will take for the next train to arrive. There was no information to indicate the estimated arrival time as compared to the normal operating procedures and I had a struggle with my inner self when the Cockfoster bounded train arrived.

Deciding to stick with my gut feel, I proceeded to take a seat and waited patiently. Expecting a five to ten minute wait, I smiled to myself when the train suddenly arrived without any advance notice.

As I reached my destination within a shorter time than expected,  I was once again thankful to have placed my trust in my instinct to be able to receive the arrival of the unexpected.

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