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Yeah, falling on diesel used to be a pretty regular occurence.
Talking of tea, I once dropped something off to Emma Thompson at Maison Bertaux on Greek St and she offered me a cuppa. Unfortunately I was a squid and had other jobs on and didn't take her up on it. It was a bit like an audience with the queen. Also delivered to Christopher Lee at his house in worlds end. He answered the door, immaculately clad in a red velvet smoking jacket. Legend.
For an impressionable teen, it was an exciting window in to so many different and exotic worlds.
Jung
@nick_h.
Diesel slicks seem to be a thing of the past. Probably because of some EU regulation about lorry filler caps, which can be repealed thanks to our Brexit freedom. I did manage to crash on a streak of something on Bond Street, but it smelled like dirty engine oil. There were long trails of it. I suppose a knackered Transit or something was dropping its guts. Two other people crashed on it just after me. A nice lady from the Louis Vuitton shop brought me a cup of tea. My gear lever snapped but the stub was enough to carry on.