I'm suited and booted, about to embark on another of my irregular working days. After spending the entire week in the house - partly shaking off a virus that I picked up over the weekend and partly contemplating my freelance navel - I'm looking forward to getting out.

It occurs to me that the part of the day I'm anticipating with the most pleasure is the journey there and back. Not that the clients themselves aren't anything but friendly and enthusiastic, nor that the work is dull and unfulfilling. Far from it, I love working with them.

But the prospect of being on a train for half an hour, then a tube for forty-five minutes - and then the whole thing in reverse, several hours later - fills me with glee. I'm always very productive on the train. I seem to think more clearly, make decisions more easily.

On the tube, I'm introspective. I can be reflective at home too, but the nature of subterranean thought seems to be subtly different. In my own environment I can toss ideas around for hours, but sitting in a tunnel under the capital is when I'm more likely to draw conclusions.

So, I have this idle fantasy that in an ideal world I would spend my life permanently on public transport, travelling hopefully without ever arriving. To others it could seem like a Sartrean hell, but to me this marriage of carriage and enlightenment is pure heaven.

Posted by Hg on Friday 09 November 2007 at 09:17.
Received 1 comments so far.

Comments

I used to love the time it took me to go to work on the bus/train. I could read or listen to music or ruminate. I didn't spend it productively, but I was never as productive as I am now.

However, it cost too much, took too much time and wasn't as healthy as cycling and wasn't as good for the environment as working from home.

I get to spend more time with the family now. But whisper it gently, I used to love the time to myself on the train (except when it was 2 hours late and there wasn't room to sit)

Comment by Paul on Friday 09 November 2007 at 21:20.

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