After nearly coughing my lungs up during the night, I awoke this morning with a curiously clear throat, and thought perhaps the day ahead might be a good one. For the first couple of hours it was a good day.
I rolled out of bed at 6:20am, had a shower, brushed my teeth, got dressed (miraculously finding clean clothes within moments rather than the usual minutes). I even had time for a cup of coffee before leaving the house - which I did 5 minutes earlier than usual.
The walk to the station, and the journey towards London Paddington was entirely uneventful - except perhaps for me not having a train ticket. During the journey between Marlow and Bourne End (where I change trains) the man who sells tickets managed to sell a grand total of two tickets… to an entire train full of people. Therefore nearly everybody on the train found themselves travelling the rest of the way to London with no ticket. If we had stopped to buy tickets at Bourne End station, we would have missed the train to London and ended up sat on the platform for half an hour in the cold.
Lack of tickets aside, the morning seemed like it was going well. Right until the moment I began walking down the stairs into Paddington underground station, and saw the metal gates being closed to stop passengers entering.
Ten minutes later amid many passengers huffing and puffing the gates were opened and we made our way to the platforms. Empty platforms, with no apparent sign of any trains. I amused myself by reading the daily “Metro” free newspaper - populated with all manner of stories about minor celebrity wardrobe malfunctions.
Eventually the station announcer told us there was a good service on all underground lines, and that the next Circle Line train would arrive in ten minutes. More huffing and puffing. More disgruntled little fat businessmen checking and re-checking their watches every thirty seconds.
The train finally arrived and the packed platform squashed their way onto it. Our replica sardine tin then set off underneath London. I didn’t need to hold on to anything, becuase I physically couldn’t fall over. Yes, it was that crowded.
Somehow, in the two minutes between leaving Paddington and arriving at Edgware Road something drastic happened in the London Underground universe. We were informed of a signal failure at Aldgate, a passenger ill on the train at Baker Street, and major congestion on three of the major train lines.
“We advise all passengers to seek alternative travel arrangements”.
I climbed back up the steps out of the underground station into the daylight immediately and set off on foot along the route of the underground trains. The old marylebone road gave way to Euston Road, and I spied Baker Street station across several lanes of busy traffic and railings. After battling across several crossings and a maze like underpass I finally arrived back in the London Underground and fought my way onto a train.
Although slow, the remainder of my journey was uneventful. I finally arrived at Liverpool Street an hour later than normal - and wandered into the office without being missed.
Three hours from door to door. While I am of course going to be happy when my secondment in London comes to an end next month, I will miss it.
I will miss the amusement to be gained from watching angry little men huffing and puffing. I will miss the ignorant people who push into you. I will miss the brainless who try to get on the train while others are trying to get off. I will miss the career girls with their immaculate makeup and no time for anybody. I will miss the many millions of tourists of all nationalities that clog the streets.
I will not miss getting up at 6am each day, and being lucky to return home by 7:30pm. W will not miss my bad moods. She will look forward to a hug and a smile once more when I walk in the door.
Roll on December.