a few home truths

It's been a disquieting week. I've been having lots of little epiphanies concerning my place in the commuting world. You know how sometimes you'll chatise someone for doing something and then find yourself doing the same thing an hour later? Well, my week's been a bit like that - I keep catching myself doing all the things I've frequently poked fun at on this blog, and drawing down on myself the same scorn that I bestow on other people. I put it down to the fact that I'm tired, a bit needy and have had one of those weeks, work-wise, where you run really fast in order to stand still.

On Monday, for some unaccountable reason that I can't quite identify, I stood up almost as soon as we had left Stevenage, and suddenly realised that we were at least five minutes from my stop. A couple of other people had got up already, and they were doing the steely-detrmination face that says "Yes, I really did mean to get up ages before my stop, and now I'm going to stand here for ages with a look of steely determination because then I'll be respected far more than if I sat back down." I actually did sit back down (and I'm sure people respected me all the more for it), but it was the start of what was to prove a series of faux pas which have left me feeling far less sure of myself in position as detached observer of commuting behaviour.

This most surreal experience of the week came on Friday night, on my way home from London. I sat down in an aisle seat, next to a girl with a newspaper who seemed to be almost magnetically drawn to the wall of the carriage, so tightly was she hugging it - meaning plenty of room for me to slouch in my own seat without worrying about invading her personal space. I retrieved my laptop from my bag and fired it up - I don't normally take it home on a Friday but I've got lots to get through at the moment - and started tapping away at the keyboard. Normally I'm quite self-conscious in this situation, acutely aware of how noisy each keystroke seems to be, but I was tired and grumpy (and - wouldja believe? - absorbed in my work). After a few minutes, I realised that the girl with the newspaper had started flicking the pages in a very pointed, noisy manner, not even bothering to pretend to read any of them. Instantly I recognised a classic negative revenge tactic, exactly the type (if you'll pardon the pun) of thing I would do if the positions were reversed - creating my own disturbance to counter the one being inflicted on me. It dawned on me - I've gone from being the gamekeeper to being just another poacher. And actually that's no bad thing - just confirms what I've always said - commuting is a great leveller.