On The Train

Swaying about on the train trying to write something which might possibly end up as a Blog post.  

But who knows?  My screen is back to back across the train table with a weedy looking dude with a big motherfucker Dell laptop screen which leans over into my space.  Fortunately my Chromebook only has a modest size screen and is easy to maneouvre under the beast opposite which is almost blocking out the light.

It’s got a good wee keyboard I have to say.  Far more usable than the Samsung Netbook I used to fart about with.  There are fewer unforced spelling errors but a distressing lack of a “delete” key.  So far I need to backspace if I want to remove my errors.

At least there is no-one in this carriage howling into their mobile phone to tell their interlocutor they are on the train.  The wifi which I haven't bothered connecting the Chromebook is notoriously inadequate and exists only to kid passengers on that they really can do some work on the daily commute.

Or write the novel of the 21st century or something.

The woman beside me has put away her tablet and picked up her newspaper. Well may she in the light of news this morning that print sales of Scottish newspapers have fallen yet again.  One might have anticipated (and surely the industry hoped) that newspaper sales would increase in the context of interest in the referendum on Independence.  

It would appear that so far at least, this is not happening.  This can be a good sign for the YES campaign as no part of the Scottish mainstream media supports the YES side.

This is Portlethen, a dormitory town and the last stop before Aberdeen. The train is pretty full now as per usual and commuters are quietly anticipating their day at work.  Not  with much enthusiasm it would seem.  Why are we here?  What lies ahead?  How many more years till the grave?  Outside the weather is murky and foggy though not cold.  It dampens the mood of our fellow travellers.

I look forward to a day in the day job.  I now work three days per week which allows me to do all sorts of other stuff at weekends like playing music and writing the novel.  

The novel of course seems to have drawn to a halt.  The novels I should say.  A new person has sat beside me, the previous incumbent having left the train at Portlethen.   Her Kindle is at the ready.  I wonder will any commuter read a novel of mine on their Kindle as they go to work?

I will try to make them laugh and give them fortitude for the day ahead, the asinine bosses, the tedious grind, the back-stabbing “colleagues”, the constant worries about affording the basics of life,  about bringing up kids and supporting elders.

The day to day grind of life.  Was it meant to be like this?  Were we really meant to do the things we are compelled to do to keep the wolf from the door?  Is this really the way we were hard-wired by evolution to behave?  I can’t bring myself to believe it.

We have passed Cove and are now trundling through Torry.  Soon we shall be crossing the Dee into the station at Aberdeen.  On the left the car park of the Wood Group offices are full and through the windows many people can be seen already hard at work.

I feel for them.  I really feel for them. What are their dreams?  Was it really to slave for years to make “Sir” Ian Wood even richer?   Surely not.

“We are now approaching Aberdeen.  Please retain your tickets for the barrier gates”.