Everyday I commute into the city for work, it’s not a pleasant experience but it’s not the worst commute in the world. Generally I head for a slow train so I am guaranteed a seat, if I’m in a rush and end up on a fast train it can be hit or miss as to whether I get a seat or just get studiously ignored. Then at Waterloo, I change for the Waterloo and City Line, or the ‘Drain’ as it is affectionately called; this can involve up to twenty minutes queuing (well standing in an enormous crowded being shuffled around) to get on the platform and then a mad crush to get on the tube. The tube only takes 6 minutes and I’m actually more likely to be offered as eat on this crammed sardine-can of a train than on my over-ground journey.
This morning my journey to work started badly: I missed my slow train by 30 seconds (because my hold-ups decided to fail me on the way), so I waited for a fast train (with a look a kin to a fat Nora Batty); this was slightly delayed and already jam packed. The doors opened and I was shoved in from behind. For the first time ever, I turned around and in a very loud voice said ‘Do you mind not pushing as I am seven months pregnant and do not appreciate having my bump used as a battering ram.’ There were a few blushes, and even more ‘it wasn’t me’s it was behind me’s’. I had now made the decision to get off the train at Richmond and catch the slower underground to Monument. This was just as well, because despite being vindicated by the guard on the train, I was embarrassed to have turned into a nasty shouty Monday morning commuter.
Such a great start to the week, I'm counting down the commutes - less than 30 to go.
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