So here’s an account of my stupid, tiresome commute. It’s making me want to kill myself (2 1/2 hours a day… what I could be doing with that extra time… that’s 12 1/2 hours a week!)
Leave house, trot to station. Cram onto platform with Annoying Sniffing Guy, Leather Jacket Sci-Fi Geek, and various others who all board the same door as me. If lucky, get seat on train (August was a dream. Everyone was on holiday).
Change at Blackfriars, spend 8 minutes waiting for next train (but they’re London Transport minutes, which (fact) are 90 seconds long rather than the accepted 60. Me and Steve once counted and it’s true). Train creaks along to Kings Cross, stopping for no reason (or none that the driver cares to share with us) between stations, in tunnels etc.
Race off train at Kings Cross, scuttle across two major intersections, and hoof it up Caledonian Road to bus stop. As bus stop comes into view, so does bus, pulling away.
Wait few minutes for next bus, get off 5 minutes later (right opposite the prison) at the heart of skanky Caledonian Road.
Make the last final sprint to the office, arriving ten minutes late. Repeat 5 times a week. (I usually try to break things up a little on the journey home, by taking a different route etc.)
In other news, I am changing jobs on Monday. I found this out on Wednesday. It’s still pretty hush-hush, and it’s just a parallel move within the company. Think I’ll like it there (and I can’t tell you where ‘there’ is).