My watch buzzes my sleepy body awake. It's 7:50 AM but almost no light seeps under the blind; the forecasted heavy rain has materialised in anger. Just 5 more precious minutes in the covers, then I'll get going.
I make my way down to the kitchen to make some max-strength coffee. Having slept in till 10 AM over the weekend my sleep clock is screwed and yesterday's enthusiasm for going into the office is slowly evaporating. Why did I need to go? Ah yes my colleague from Ireland is due in; I'd better still go. Coffee in hand I head to the bathroom. Do I need a shower? Nah, I had one last night; no ones sitting near me at work. Let me just run some wax through my bed-head hair, spray on some deodorant, take my vitamin D pills, and pack my toothbrush to use in the work changing rooms. I go back to the dark bedroom, my wife slowly stirring awake, and open the wardrobe. Shirt? None are ironed. A smart t-shirt and jumper will do; it's raining anyway.
I'm now out the house in under 30 minutes. I even remembered an umbrella. No way I'm cycling in this weather so tube it is. Seems everyone has the same idea as the high street is lined with a mix of suited bankers and lawyers, hipster creatives and unkempt techies walking under their umbrella's towards the tube station.
Christ I haven't put my earbuds in. I might be alone with my thoughts for the 7 minute walk to the station. Or wait, that's a good thing right? Practically a morning meditation session. 2 minutes from the station I find shelter and put them in; 5 minutes was sufficient self-reflection. Bloody hell what audio content to choose. The 25 hour fantasy audiobook is pure escapism but is not the path to self improvement that I feel I should be treading this Tuesday morning. Maybe I'll try a coding or politics podcast; try and expand my brain. No dice- no new episodes and I can't be bothered searching. FT new briefing podcast perhaps? Its about Bolsonaro and is far too depressing. I could try Spotify? No I listened to 8 hours yesterday. Back to Audible to see which other books I have downloaded. I choose the therapy book I'm half way through; let's see how this goes.
I wait on the platform alongside the suits and the hipsters for the overground to Canada Water. Where do I fall in the clothing spectrum? Somewhere safely in the middle I like to think, erring on boring. 4 more minutes until the next train, god they are slow this morning. A lady walks along the platform reading a book, a book! What a strange thing to do on a commute- it must be for show. The train arrives and we file inside the damp carriage.
It's 8:45 AM at Canada Water Station. The suits and hipsters that boarded beside me rush out the opening doors and down the steps to the jubilee line platform, texting mid-sprint. I follow at a more leisurely pace. I don't want to seem too keen. Ah balls, 7 minutes to the next service! And the platform is already pretty full. Better choose my queue carefully. I see a mass of people filing down the other escalator on the far end- ignore that end of the platform. These double doors in front of me seem quite OK, but are too close, therefore must be some sort of trick. That que over there to the single door looks short enough.
I join it, then realise that there are two queues going into the single door. Argh... maybe I should have chosen the closer double door, but now the line behind it has grown. I'm committed now, no swapping lanes. 3 minutes pass and more damp, stressed people mass behind my que. Most people stare at their phones. I stand slowly moving foot to foot trying to stretch my sore back, and listen to the self-help book, which is opening a small Pandora's box of past errors. Maybe the fantasy book would have been better, but like the que, I'm committed now. The tube arrives, windows wet and steamy, and packed like a sardine can. 2 people step out of the door, and a mass of people barge in from behind me, filling every cubic inch of space in the carriage. How did this happen!! Before I know it I'm in the same place in the que but all the people ahead of me are different. What a load of total twats, can't they see I was queuing? Another 5 minutes until the next train. Anger wells inside, but it's not worth the conflict. I would need to remove my earbuds, they would have to remove theirs- just too much effort. I stand still, staking my claim near the door, legs wide, focusing on staying patient, and occasionally looking distractedly at whatever BBC article the man in front of me is reading on his phone. The next train arrives- its totally packed, and no one gets off. I hesitate, the two people to the left of me jam in. FFS.. I've been here for close to 12 minutes, and the que at the double door is now full of fresh faces. At least I'm now in 1st position at my single door. What a foolish choice of doors I made. I get a flashback to choosing the wrong lane when trying to drive through the Blackwall tunnel last Saturday. That mistake probably cost me a solid 15 minutes, so in total I've lost over 30 minutes from bad lane and door choice in the last 4 days. Why do I even care? The next train arrives 3 minutes later with got plenty of space, and I wedge myself in the corner.
The carriage pulls into Waterloo. My brain is no longer angry at my fellow commuters, but is a washing machine of indulgent self-reflection after 2 chapters of the self-help audiobook; fantasy is such a more enjoyable genre. Taking the usual route out of the station and back into the rain, I dodge the long queues of umbrellas waiting for the buses on the way to the office. Passing the sandwich stop I realise my brain and stomach are crying out for some food. It's been a tough morning, so I treat myself to a toasted ham and cheese on rye bread.
Finally in the office, I settle down to eat the sandwich in an empty eating area. Life and positivity slowly flow from salty cheese into the mouth, stomach, and the rest of the body. I treat myself to a free 'Cafe au Lait' from the coffee machine and find a desk; it's time to login.
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