The Commuter's Lament

So I work in software. Which, for those who don't know, is like being a professional overthinker, except they pay you for it. Barely.

I live in Manchester. Beautiful city. It rains 364 days a year. On the one dry day, we all go outside, squint at the sky, and say "lovely, isn't it?" like we've just discovered the sun for the first time.

My commute is forty-five minutes each way. That's an hour and a half a day of standing next to someone who definitely had garlic bread for breakfast. You learn a lot about yourself on the Metrolink. Mainly that you have no personal boundaries left.

Someone asked me what I do for fun. I said "I run." They said "from what?" Honestly? Fair question.

My biggest pet peeve? People who stand on the wrong side of the escalator. There is a system. We agreed on this as a society. Left for walking, right for standing. If you're standing on the left, you are a criminal. I don't make the rules. Actually, I think Transport for London made the rules. But I enforce them. Silently. With fury.

Thank you, you've been a wonderful audience. I'm off to stand in the rain and think about spreadsheets.