Journey to the centre of the earth

For various reasons I am not working in central London at the moment- still in London and it's still lovely but not in the centre.

The move back might be soon and it's got me thinking about the good and bad things about that.

Bad things- getting up earlier and getting home later, public transport issues, the other people on the public transport, the cost- both for travel and inevitable increase in spending on food and sundries I am tempted by at the shops- and especially the station (a magazine here, a whole new wardrobe there)

Good things- proper coffee roasting and ready at early o’clock in huge cups that don’t spill all over my hands, that feeling you get as you cross the Thames however many times you do it, shopping at lunchtime, spending less on the internet, being able to justify those magazine purchases

Little kindnesses: the bus driver and the laden lady

The lady was round like an apple and bobbed from side to side as she walked- as if she had been dropped in water not on a pavement.

She was laden with heavy shopping bags over filled with ingredients for that night's dinner. She was struggling with the weight of the bags, the bags were struggling with the weight of the food and altogether they were making slow progress down Fulham Palace Road.

The bus raced onwards, trying to take advantage of a relative break in the eternal car park that is the route to Hammersmith. The road ahead was clear and I expected the bus to roar on like a horse in full gallop. Then the unexpected happened, we slowed and the bus driver tooted. To whom we thought? For once there was no traffic, no bike in the middle of the lane, no car trying to cheekily turn right.

He was slowing and tooting at the lady as she meandered along, moving from left to right but seemingly barely moving forward. He was stopping to let her on the bus. We were no where near a stop and she hadn't run after him or shouted and pleaded to be allowed on as we all do. This was a very strange occurrence.

She smiled the biggest, truest smile I have seen all week- the whitest teeth on the darkest skin- a smile of warmth. She shook her head and said no she didn't need the bus she was nearly at her door. She waved, the bus driver waved and we sped onwards to Hammersmith- and I think everyone on the bus may have been twenty seconds later and a great deal happier than they expected to be when they got on the bus.

The Road less travelled

This week I have been getting up earlier and studying people more acutely as I have tried to get to work through the snow.

(As an aside I am still amazed snow can cause so much chaos, when I was a child I'm sure it snowed this much all the time and we still went to school and parents still went to work- ah well those were the days, Mars bars were bigger too and there less adverts on the TV).

Anyway. What I have noticed is the very early morning is the best time to watch different kinds of people interact. Specifically the only people who have to be a train at 6am are either pinstriped suited city types, usually older, usually I suspect directors or at some level where they get paid enough to go in at 6am- or- the people who clean their offices (and everyone else's) or work in some other service type capacity. It's actually rather sweet to note that I suppose both sections play a very important role in our economy and they treat each other with a lot of respect. They let each other go first and say good morning in a way that people don't on a packed 8.34 northern line tube.

Commuting Dog

On my journey to work I see a man who takes his dog into work everyday.

I always wonder what the commute from it's rural or suburban home to the ever cold hall at Waterloo and through the legs of throngs of smelly, grumpy, rushing people must be like for a dog.

The commuting dog looks a bit like an Irish Wolfhound but is shorter and stouter in stature. He has bushy eyebrows, very knowing, kind eyes and the constantly smiling mouth some dogs have.

He is incredibly calm, much calmer than his owner or the other passengers. He trots along the platform with neither too much nor too little haste.

I often whereabouts the dog spends his days. My best guess from his owners clothes is that they head into the city and he sits under a desk patiently with his chin in his paws while his man does deals.

Other things I often wonder are:
Do dogs need a ticket and is there a limit to how many dogs there can be per carraige?

Does commuter dog take a copy of the Metro in the morning?

Does it annoy commuter dog as much as it annoys me when the guard insists on checking tickets, even though it means walking over and through a packed carriage full of people who have already been through electronic barriers?