I can be sent to work at any of a number of locations. But there’s one I seem to get sent to most. It’s the place furthest from home at the very end of the line. Read into that what you will. But I don’t mind. I enjoy the commute.
Every time I make the trip, I get on the same train, just after eight in the morning. I sit in the same carriage, at the front of the train. I sit in the same seat, the one with a table on the left side facing forward. I drink the same coffee – one and half spoons of brown powdered stuff, one sugar, a decent splash of semi-skimmed milk.
And while I drink my coffee and munch on the same pastry (pain-au-chocolat from Co-op, hopefully still warm) I look out of the same window at the same scenery. But it never gets dull. Because Mother Nature, bless her, paints a different picture every single day of the year.