Is it possible...

...to miss commuting?

A couple of days ago, I wouldn't have thought so, yet today I found myself questioning whether I'll still be churning through books after I no longer spend hours every day commuting.

I was also most tickled by the guard on the train back from Wimbledon this evening, who took it upon himself to request politely "Would passengers please stay awake at all times during your journeys, as having to get a taxi at this time of night is very costly. Again, would all passengers please endeavour to remain awake at all times. Thankyou."

Bless 'im.

"Hello? Is that But Why? It's God here... I'm just on a train..."

I had a bit of a run-in with The Almighty this morning. There I was, sitting on the train as it made its way out of Woking, minding my own business, reading a book in a content, slightly sleepy, undemanding-of-conversations-with-the-Supreme-Being, atheist kind of way, when my consciousness was stirred by something that didn't quite sound right. I replayed the last string of words I'd heard in my head to work out what was wrong...

"Good morning. This is your God speaking."

Yes, that was definitely what I'd just heard. Every word mapped, in that order, to the memory of the previous communication. If that was so, it appeared my God was speaking to me. I now knew what was wrong - being a committed atheist, this was a little disconcerting. Still, I sat a bit straighter and started paying attention - you never know when it might be useful to adopt a more flexible posture on these matters. I cast a glance at my fellow commuters. They weren't responding, so I assumed it was only me that God was talking to.

It seemed a bit odd that God should choose to have a word in my ear when I was buried in a book - I'm not receptive to The Good News at the best of times, and The Omniscient One should have known that they'd get short shrift interrupting my reading. I was also beginning to regret thinking I could get away with that pair of socks with the holes in the heels which don't show above the shoeline. Still, I could do nothing to change that now. I wondered what God wanted - my book wobbled a little in my hands as I strained for what I hoped would be some more impressive pearls of wisdom. I didn't have to wait long...

"I am currently in Coach 8 of this twelve coach train."

Well, OK. That may be factually correct, but I was hoping for something a little more sage... Still, you are God. You choose to be on a train. That's fine. Whatever floats your boat, though I'd always thought that if I ever made it to the status of a deity, I'd inhabit somewhere a bit more salubrious. Atop a cloud, perhaps, or on a mountain overlooking the ocean. Somewhere with a decent view. Certainly not on the 9:03 to London Waterloo on a Monday morning. And further, I would pick a slightly more polished accent, rather than sounding like I'd just got out of bed and couldn't be bothered to articulate my words. This was beginning to seem a little unlikely, and all rather disappointing for that magical moment of the first time God spoke to me.

I was just running those communications with The Almighty through my head again - after all, they might be important. I was glad I did - the penny dropped:

"Good morning. This is your Guard speaking. I am currently in Coach 8 of this twelve coach train."

Ahhhh, that made more sense. I wasn't having delusions after all. And god certainly hadn't put in a personal appearance on my way to work when I was wearing a pair of holey socks. Good. What a relief...

As if that wasn't disturbing enough, I can report that speech impediments in train guards are spreading. Coming on the back of this morning's misrepresentation of the holy one, when the guard apologised for "the crap conditions on this train", I wondered if I might be hearing things. But no, the other commuteniks had heard it too, and were discussing if he really had apologised for the crap conditions. To make things easier for us, he thoughtfully repeated his message. "On behalf of South West Trains, I would like to apologise for the crap conditions on this train. There are a few seats still available in the rearmost carriage."

I think he was probably saying "cramped"...

Some words

I commute. I am a commuter. It is how I now identify myself at parties.

"...and what is it that you do?"
"I am a commuter."

It's not really a lie, but a half truth. It sounds better than telling the truth, which is that I currently help the public sector fritter away your tax cash in return for getting mine back with a slice of yours, too. I've observed that the latter response doesn't help me to make new friends, which is why I go in for the half-truths.

There appear to be four activities which are popular with commuters whilst in the act of commuting:

• sleeping, with or without added dribbling;
• reading;
• listening to music;
• staring vacantly into space (presumably whilst having some form of thought process).

Combinations of most of the above are possible and can be observed in commuters between the hours of 7am and 9am, or between 4pm and 7pm.

I choose to read. I find that people who appear to be reading look less gormless than the average commuter. Where possible, I prefer to appear to be something other than gormless. Moreover, I choose to read books. They are better suited than newspapers to the environment of the packed commuter train, and I find they are quite useful in preventing my becoming a victim of dribble-inducing sleep.

I've read some good books recently:

Half of a Yellow Sun Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
I loved this wonderfully textured book, with its believable characters and witty observation, and it's written in handy commute-sized chunks - altogether a most satisfying tome for a commuter.

The Bonesetter's Daughter Amy Tan
Slow, unremarkable, almost ponderous start, which transforms into a gripping and sensitive read, all the more effective for the effort investing in wading through the treacle of everyday life to get there. By making the very ordinary and mundane such a large part of the book, the question "Just how many of the occurrences I dismiss as boring and mundane are the thinly veiled other face of the remarkable, painful and raw" is begged. All a bit thought-provoking for the commute.

The Interpretation of Murder Jed Rubenfeld
Sadly, this wasn't one of the good ones. Interesting, intriguing at times, and then ludicrous. Increasingly ludicrous. And only ludicrous. Having finished this book, as time goes by I feel more and more cheated for having spent precious time reading what had the potential to be great, but ended up as a collection of overly manipulated characters in a forced and contorted plot. It ended up in a dizzy mess after spo much early promise. Most disappointing...

Dublin Edward Rutherfurd
Massive. Doorstop. Of. A. Book. For some reason, I found this difficult to get into. Or maybe it's just a bit daunting for the daily commute and better suited to a day or two on the beach. Family/historical sagas - I love all of that stuff.

The Lovely Bones Alice Sebold
Clever. Nice. Sweet. Enjoyable. This is a bit odd, considering that the book is written in the voice of a dismembered child. The ending is a bit light and facile, but by then I needed something to smile about, and a packed tube isn't quite the place to find yourself reduced to floods of tears ten minutes before a meeting with a new customer.

The Kite Runner Khaled Hosseini
Amazing and beautiful. I can't quite place why it is special, but I'd certainly recommend it. Well-observed, realistic sense of location, feasible plot, and a surprizingly satisfying yet open finish. I almost had to prize this book out of my hands when I arrived at work each day, it's that good.

Uncle Tungsten: Memories of a Chemical Boyhood Oliver Sacks
Reminded me why I love science. Also instilled in me new seeds of doubts for having decided a few years ago to take the money and run from science and all those things I enjoyed. Also made me wonder what I'd have ended up like if my interest in science had been nurtured from early childhood. I suspect I'd be verging on being a brilliant scientist and altogether socially misfitted. In fact, I would probably have become one of those people for whom their employment is a form of care in the community*. This book is also a good commute read at the moment because the monotone front cover clearly marked me as a non-reader of Harry Potter. However, I do worry slightly that given the levels of hype, non-knowledge of Harry Potter may one day become a criminal offence punishable by death.

Wasting Police Time PC David Copperfield
One of those books that makes me want to tear my hair out for a multitude of reasons, mainly due to the exposure of ludicrous wastes of time and public money. Such illiberal views. Fancy suggesting, in this day and age, that the purpose of policing is to keep the goodies safe and catch the baddies. Also has some dangerous ideas including the locking up of criminals. A bit too illiberal for me (being of the guardian-reading persuasion), but interesting background from another part of the public sector.

Lots of Home Office publications and work-related documents
I don't intend to talk about these, not least because whilst being frightfully necessary, they are as dull as ditchwater.

On the reading pile for the next few months are:
The Contortionist's Handbook Craig Clevenger
Kuhn Vs Popper: The Struggle for the Soul of Science Steve Fuller
Suite Francaise Irene Nemirovski
Fermat's Last Theorem Simon Singh
The Gift of Rain Tan Twang Eng
A Thousand Splendid Suns Khaled Hosseini
The Language of God: A Scientist Preserves Evidence for Belief Francis Collins
The Tiger in the Attic Edith Milton
The Master and Margarita Mikhail Bulgakov
A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian Marina Lewycka
The Ptolemies Book One: The House of the Eagle Duncan Sprott

I'm almost, almost looking forward to the commute...


*Last year, I was told by a gentleman who worked at the Council for the Central Laboratory of the Research Councils (CCLRC, now defunct) that it was inadvisable to take any action which would put any of their scientists out of work, because their employment in government-funded research was essentially a form of care in the community for the academically useful but socially crippled. Casting my mind over some of the scientists I know, I was tempted to concede he may have had a point...

Commuting

I started a new job today. I live in Guildford and as of today commute daily to Earls Court. The journey each way is about 1 hr 45 mins door to door, meaning that 3 1/2 hours of non-leisure time cling like a parasite to every 8 hour working day. Talking to members of the project team I am working with, I find that this is not atypical, and I am not alone in having a long commute. The question I found myself asking was, "Why am I not alone in adding nearly 50% non-fun onto my working day, and £150 to my weekly expenses?"

I work for a consultancy which is based in Guildford. My home is roughly three miles from the office, and I can often work from home. I like this arrangement - I can commute on foot, by bicycle, or by car, and on a good day, my commute is five minutes. I'm currently contracted to provide eight weeks' support to a customer in Earl's Court. So instead of moving house for eight weeks, I will commute to work. When this contract finishes, my next contract might be working from the office, or it might be on the other side of the country. Geographical variety is a hazard of my job. Most of the other members of the project team are not contractors, but permanent employees. They have no prospect of working three miles from home in a couple of months' time. They do this every day, and have expectations to continue doing this every day for the foreseeable future.

I find commuting a terrible waste of life. Looking at all the blank faces on the trains and tubes coming and going every day, I can't help but smile at the thought of the commuters in their Virgin Pendolino trains. Pendolino means "pendulum" in Italian. It is also the word used for a commuter. I love the mental image this conjures up, with commuters pointlessly swinging between their homes and their offices. Bravo, Virgin. Then I remember I have just joined the ranks of these commuters.

I will look forward to my next contract....