Here I am sat at the train station with a big coffee, waiting for the train to London. I always wanted one of those jobs, to be a coffee drinking train traveller. Maybe it’s a case of hankering after what you don’t have.
I love it though, the expectation, being whisked away somewhere else. The feeling of a brief escape.
People watching. That old cliché but essential to anyone who
writes. It’s as though someone’s orchestrated a cross section of society just in the waiting room.
I haven’t got a job which requires me to commute. But I’m off today to find out if I have. Whatever the outcome I’ll have the home journey to look forward to. The little routines..trying to find an electric socket for my phone charger, finally getting round to reading the magazine I shoved on my bag on the way out. Then arriving home again, probably weary, ready for the flurry of activity when I’m back home with the family.