The worst bores, I sometimes think, are those who love telling people the various routes from one place to another. I have never been more bored in my life than when listening to an old gentleman1 explaining to an old lady the several ways in which she might havee from Notting Hill Gate to Hampstead. She hadplained of the time the journey had taken and immediately he was off on along rigmarole2 consisting of the number of buses and the frames of streets and stations. He went on in a flat voice conducting her, as it seemed to me, through every street in west and north London. He told her of all the various places where she might have changed buses and named most of the public-houses on the way. In the end, it seemed to me, he was boring