Trouble is, in London rush hour, you can’t just cancel trains. They’ve been having a lot of problems on our line recently, and keep cancelling trains with no warning. My boss has started throwing all sorts of hissy fits about people ‘swanning in at all times’, so I left an extra twenty minutes early, in case it was a bad day. It’s as I get near to Catford Bridge that I start to feel a knot of tension. Or maybe no label because you make your clothes yourself out of retro fabrics that you source at Alfies Antiques. You could have a genuine vintage Christian Dior label. You can’t work where I work and have ‘Christin Bior’ in your coat. It had a label in it, ‘Christin Bior’, but I cut it out as soon as I got home. My coat’s pretty warm, even though it cost £9.99 and came from the market. The grey December air is like iron in my chest, but I feel good. That’s why I’m here.Īnyway, my twenty-minute walk to the station is fine. My dad always says: if you can’t run with the big dogs, stay under the porch. (Actually, it’s not much like Tate Modern. It’s part of the London experience, like Tate Modern. I want to live in London I want to do this and commuting is part of the deal. As commutes go, it could be a lot worse, and I must keep remembering this.
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