Trainspotting

I am now an official commuter.

As of last Monday I have joined the throng of iPod-wearing, Metro-reading hordes who brave our beloved public transport system twice each day.
The previous week I was a lone, irate driver, who spent up to an hour every day ranting to no-one in particular about the Renault Clio in front which refuses to pull back into the inside lane.
Now... well, I'm a different person. Rather than play 'dodge the crazy lorries' and suffer the smug middle Englishness of BBC Radio 5 Live, I now enjoy a leisurely stroll through the park, a relaxing coffee and bury my
nose in a good book.

I even look the part. Waterproof jacket, comfortable walking shoes, homemade coffee in a portable mug/flask thing. I even have the ubiquitous white plastic string hanging from my ears. Which is handy if you don't like speaking to people - especially commuters.

I even... ooh this is so exciting.... have my own travel pass. With a photo of me. It reads: "Mr Stark - license to ride (the train)."

It doesn't. I made that up. But it's cool nonetheless.