Rush Hour

The morning rush hour in England is foul. Everyone is sleepless, irritable and inwardly deeply reluctant to get to work, and hellbent on doing so with the minimum of hassle. Everyone else is an enemy. If someone in some way impedes your progress to work, then you feel furious that they don’t understand that you have to get to work. Yet if you are somehow the one in other people’s way, then you are angry that other people do not appreciate how tired and resentful you are feeling. It is an inestimable game of schizophrenic thoughts.

The sorest thing missing is sympathy.. The commuter on her way to work may have a boss she cannot be late for, or a marriage in dissolution, or two overnight jobs. The point is that you cannot know. And therefore you remain as an irritable individual in a crowd of other irritable individuals, each silently resentful of themselves and everybody else. Even in the summer, with the bright light of day welcome at the sounding of your alarm clock, the fatigue is hard to overcome. People do not sleep enough. What is it about highly industrialised countries that just sucks the breath out of its people?

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