I normally don’t have to drag my sorry backside out of bed until at least 7am of a morning at the latest. And even then, I can still sit in my pyjamas and contemplate if I do really need a job. However, I am then briefly reminded by the vast array of ‘slap’ I feel I need to wear to look socially acceptable and my die-hard habit of eating at Greggs every morning for breakfast that I at least need a job to fuel that vicious cycle. And so, I attempt to ‘get ready’. I get dressed, put my face on and then leave for work. I can be out of bed and in the office in an hour and twenty-five. Job’s a good’n.

However, some days I do not have the luxury of my 7am lay-ins. Some days a satanic blessing bestows me that requires this definitive non-morning, caffeine dependant, bacon baguette munching hoe to be at least sat on a train for twenty minutes by 7am. I say it’s a Satanic blessing as although the thought of this commute fucking nearly kills me and in part I think a small part of my soul does die on the 6.54 Greater Anglia service, I love being able to return to one of my favourite places. London. The Big Smoke. The ‘City’.

And yes alright. The Tube is packed. High speed sardine tins full of sweaty armpits, crying children and Professionals that ‘work in the City Dahhhling’ on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But you know what, you stick to rules of The Tube and you will be alright. In all honesty, I doubt you do in fact want to make awkward conversation with someone who looks as if the underarms of their generic t-shirt could cure world thirst. And yes. The pavements are busy. It’s not like quaint quiet country villages where everybody walks to their left. No! Fuck that! People got shit to sell, stocks to trade and… well … other stuff to do!

We are all in a rush. We are all trying to get somewhere. It’s bloody stressful and the only thing that keeps you with a grasp on humanity is the price of double espresso you have just forked out for at London Liverpool Street. Admittedly, perhaps you then hope after guzzling it down, it may trigger a heart attack and get you out of this commuting hell hole once and for all.

But what I see is the hive of civilisation. The heart of the country, feeding out like veins through our United Kingdom. Arteries flow from the Capital to Birmingham and beyond. I am not one to get overly sentimental and mushy about this shit normally but there is something about London. Maybe it’s because it’s home and we all love a bit of patriotism. But we are such a little island on this planet. We will become even littler once Brexit has become enforced and we separate away. Once upon a time, this city that we slog to for our dreams, hopes, careers and ambitions, was the gateway to ruling half the world. And one day again, London will rise almost a phoenix amongst the ashes bigger and better than ever before.

And at that point. Yeah. Commuting can definitely do one. No thanks.


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