Sitting on the train, en-route to Birmingham once again. Woke with a start at 4:55am, and lurched out of bed. Espresso at home, and a capuccino at Maidenhead have kick started my body enough to deal with the early start.
Some foolish experimentation with viral Twitter tools yesterday filled my morning email with follows from strangers. I had no idea so many people were so gullible. No doubt the new followers will fall away as time goes by, and leave me with a hard core of “those worth following” - in the meantime I have to employ my brain to sort the wheat from the chaff - something computers find very hard.
At the time of writing, we are a few minutes out of Reading station, on the 7:10am train towards Birmingham - via Oxford, and Banbury. It’s a roundabout route, but gets me to the destination with time to spare ahead of a fairly long requirements gathering meeting.
Work seems to have consumed a lot of my life recently - not only in terms of time, but also in terms of thought. I find it hard to switch off; in the dead of night I will often find myself thinking through aspects of the software architecture I am working on. I suspect it’s a common problem with technical professions.
There is a blonde woman sat in front of me on the train. I can’t help thinnking she looks like a far flung friend (at least the back of her head does)… I’m always seeing people I know in others.
Looking out of the train window, summer appears to be arriving with a vengeance - we have blue skies from horizon to horizon. It’s going to be a hot day - not exactly great when you know you’re going to be crammed into meeting rooms all day.
I guess I should send an email on ahead to my destination to find out if any colleagues are on-site today too - maybe meet them for lunch if our schedule allows… or at least I would if I had any phone signal whatsoever.
A girl just passed through the train carriage with a trolley full of food and drink - she reminds me of a girl I went to primary school with, and found again on Facebook last year. I’m doing it again - seeing people I know in strangers. It’s a curse.
There is something strangely calming about commuting. Sitting on a quiet train in the early hours of the morning, zipping across the countryside, listening to music, and recording thoughts into a netbook - a change from the usual morning sprint to get the children fed, ready for school and out the door.
The train just rolled into Oxford - the place I met my other half back in the summer of 2000. Our first date was in the “Cock and Camel” in George Street after a month or so writing emails, and calling each other on the phone. I often wonder if the place we met still looks the same, or if it’s been replaced by some faceless chain pub or cafe.
Oxford holds many wonderful memories for me - walks through the dimly lit evening streets, and fog filled early morning parks… the “dreaming spires”, the Radcliffe Camera, Jericho, the colleges. It’s unique, beautiful, and different than any other place in England - there is a real sense of history and learning.
In the reflection of the train window I can see the blonde lady in front writing email after email on a Blackberry Bold.
Casting an around the carriage, it’s interesting to notice the difference between people commuting away from London, and those who commute into the city (as I did for much of 2007 and 2008). The London commuters are younger, more sharply (and unapproachably) dressed, and give the impression of being less patient, more shallow, and invariably self interested. My partners travelling north today seem more “real” - hard working, friendly, approachable people.
I remember writing during my period working in London about the predominance of pretty girls, and the obvious discriminatory hiring policies of the city financial institutions. Many might argue against any such thing, but standing by the doors of the Amro building, or Lloyds, you may as well start counting the number of girls with perfect hair, makeup, teeth and figures who could be catwalk models. I wonder if other big cities suffer similarly.
It’s 7:50am. Still an hour to kill before I arrive at my destination. I’m going to stop writing now for fear of causing numerous accidents in my pathetically small readership via this narcolepsy inducing essay of the inconsequential.
Wherever you are, have a great morning, afternoon or evening…
Good morning world!