Commuting is more difficult than I thought it was going to be.

First, there is the whole ‘getting on the train’ thing, which involves getting up at 7am, and not – for example – then falling asleep and dreaming about matches for three quarters of an hour.

Second, there is the trip from Reading to Paddington. The trip from my home to Reading station is reasonably simple, and nobody has managed to muck that up for me yet, but the train from Reading to Paddington has a number of interesting qualities, and some of which are these:

First, it either comes from Swansea or Swindon, depending on which train I take. Reading is the last stop before Paddington, which is quite lucky because by the time it gets to Reading every seat is filled, not a person more, not a person less, meaning that anyone who gets onto the train at Reading will have to stand until Paddington. This has failed to be true twice, the first was when I caught the early train from Swansea which gets into Reading at 7:15. I caught this train at 8:20, when it was rolled into the station empty. I’ve caught trains at about 8:20 every day this week save one, and every day I’ve caught a train that was supposed to be there at least ten minutes previously. The only time I’ve managed to catch the 8:20 from Reading was when I arrived at the station at 8:45.

Also, I’m not sure why commuter trains require a travelling chef on each, but I digress.

Second. I have a week season ticket (1 day Reading -> London at peak: 25. one week Reading -> London 77), and I’m really glad I didn’t go for the month one. In the past week a grand total of three ticket machines have choked on my ticket, meaning I have to seek out a London Underground Bod to get through gates until I can leave it (the ticket) between two heavy books.

So, basically, Grumble Grumble British Rail Grumble Grumble Too Hot Grumble Grumble British Weather Grumble Grumble Grumble.

OTOH, the job itself is fun 🙂