The daily commute

 

I’m sure that I’m not alone in this but do you too have a feeling of entitlement on your daily commute? There is a ritual for me every morning at Paddington. The second that the describer board indicates the next suitable train, I join the surge, through the ticket barrier (God borbid that the ticket for some reason delays your progress), down the stairs (I would never under any other circumstances move that quickly, let alone run down stairs!) and scan the carriage numbers facing me. It has to be the “right” carriage (D in this case) and then to “my” seat. Maybe First Great Western could put my name on it. I feel quite affronted should somebody else be sitting in it. Why do we feel that we have a right to what is normal for us? Is it a comfort thing? I suppose we all like the security of normality and predictability. Oh – it’s just me then.

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