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26 and a bit miles is one thing. But the air in this city stinks. It must have half the oxygen concentration of proper air. I wouldn't want to do any exercise here - anything that makes you breathe in any deeper than absolutely necessary is a no-no.
Travelling in is a very unpleasant experience. You spend 45 minutes standing in a crowded train, cramped in with strangers, drowning in a gassy sea of morning halitosis. Then you get off and waddle in a giant flock of human ducks (ahem) slowly making their way from the train to the tube. Down to the platform, as you submerge into the sea of halitosis once more.
I think the thing I hate most is how if you try to show any courtesy by letting someone on before you, or giving someone a couple of inches of space as you queue, some lowlife toad will drop an elbow into the gap and lever himself in.
Essentially the price for showing courtesy or respect is to get shafted. It's turned into a weakness.
Meanwhile the rude, mean-spirited little locals carve up the queues. Sometimes the middle-aged women are the worst - disillusioned with a world that lost interest as quickly as the beauty of their youth faded and secure in the knowledge that nobody's going to really retaliate, they have nothing to lose as they get physical with their elbows and high heels.
I don't like the way they smell either. Too much purfume, it's overpowering.
You can't fight back, and they're skunked up to push you further out of contention for the next tube carriage.
Mind you, it seems like a rough lot - middle aged women do seem to get somewhat neglected by the world. I guess this is especially true in a big city.
Men tend to fare a little better. Not to worry though, by the time you're retired, whatever your gender society will view you as worthless.
So, fresh from an hour sardined in with obnoxious strangers who treat you like dirt and who stink of bad perfume and stale mouth, you're ready to start your working day.
And what a grind that is. 8 hours of grind, before you get to go home. Then it's another hour with the same vile people. The breath tends to be better, but the crowds usually seem worse.
A couple of hours to unwind, and your evening is fast ebbing away. Maybe 2 more hours to get something to eat and squeeze in some time to try to be happy.
The thing I really hate is the damage it's doing to my generalised other.
The human brain can only keep track of the detailed likes, dislikes, and views of 7 or 8 individuals. The rest gets fudged into a generic 'everyone'. This is the generalised other. You use it when you think of trends and generalities in people at large. This perception of 'everyone' is shaped by every interaction you have. It's not, however, usually accurate to what 'everyone' is really like. This is why publications like the Daily Mail are harmful to peoples' world views - your 'everyone' is shaped by stories of peadophiles and illegal immigrants and terrorists and single mums. Your perception of 'everyone' gets skewed even further out of line with reality than normal. You gradually become a suspicious, hateful and biggoted retard. As many of the people on my old paper round will evidence.
The twice-daily battering of smelly scumbags is impacting my generalised other. I become more indifferent, even rude myself, to strangers. The zombies have eaten my brains and I'm slowly transforming into one of them.
Is this the great disease of the 21st century?
(Or are we still worried about cancer and AIDs? *Slaps self for the melodrama*. 3rd greatest disease then.)
I hope I get out of this city soon.
Fortunately several other people were too, so all was well.
On the way home the train was broken (signalling monkey had passed out from the solvents). After an extra half hour wait (which isn't that much, but when you only get a couple of decent hours to yourself in the evening, it's pretty undesirable), I get on some train. Needless to say some utterly vile old hag proceeded to treat me like dirt.
If I had a hammer, I'd hammer in the morning.
I'd hammer in the evening, all over your hand.
I'd hammer y'out of my way,
I'd hammer your face in,
I'd hammer out ribs and kneecaps and several of your front teeth,
Blood a-a-all over the underground.
That just came to me.
I think I need therapy :^S
Quite happy here in the West. The only problems are regular public transport and house prices vs wages. In a way it's all worth it for friendly shopkeepers who know your name and the lovely trees, flowers, animals and fresh air*.
*even though few people get used to the smell of a freshly manure spread field as you drive past taking in the smell...
Except when it's held up because 'someone's under one of the carriages'.
I'm not sure whether they mean someone died, or someone jumped down there and they can't get them out. I don't like to ask.
> I love the random people who come onto trains and start playing
> guitar or something. ^-^
I like the way those people make lots of commuters squirm awkwardly as they're so uptight they have no idea how to react. Priceless.
Jack Bauer would kick them out of the window whilst running past some students yelling "GET OUT THE WAY!" in a scottish accent.
>
> But occasionally you do get someone being genuinely nice. Very
> occasionally.
and they're the ones to be most scared of because if you're nice back to them they'll follow you home and hang you from your lightfitting.
And then it just perpetuates.
But occasionally you do get someone being genuinely nice. Very occasionally.