A dash for the train. Greens and brown blurred as the pedals spin and breathing hurries. The fields have a haze of green, early shoots of growth, wet with a misty rain. A pheasant fails to hide against this baize, an obvious shot, ready to be potted.
Into the effort now. Traffic grows; plumber, Golf, Audi, school bus. Past the two small woodlands, then down and over the little bridge, and up the bailey to skirt the embankment and into a village now fortified by roads and starter homes.
Down into the town, that welcomes careful drivers, though it does a poor job of attracting them, to make the train. Now I’m the one glistening with a morning dew.
The train pulls away, South. From the carriage window a kestrel hovers, already at work.
I try not to ‘share’ when my commute goes wrong. We chose to live in the village, and yes, it’s not close to the office. Or anywhere (excluding the next village). In fact most of the time, like most people, my commute is pretty mundane.
Over the next 2 weeks I’m going to commuting by a slightly more unusual set of options, including: private car, folding bike, plane, taxi, @londonmidland train, @amtrak train, tube and (hopefully) snowboard. I’ll try and post back with some good pictures.