The Last Morning

So, <sob sob sob> today was the last morning commute. I had initially decided to do something special for it. This was going to involve posting Blue soup’s Guide to Commuting from Little City. It was going to be a picture-post of the daily journey so that now you could all do it too (if you were bored one day and wanted to get up at the crack of dawn in order to entertain yourself by doing my commute to London from Little City. This would probably involve advance planning as well because you would likely need to spend the previous night in Little City as well in order to get the 7.30am, although Hoverfrog could probably get a really early train from his station to mine and do it that way). You would be able to see The Lady and Sun Man and other Commuter Friends in real life.

I was also thinking of publicly giving away the whereabouts of Little City, as in actually typing out the name of the place – I mean, this would be most helpful if you decided you did want to do the above and be me for a morning. Otherwise you wouldn’t know where to start. Not that it’s particularly hard to work out from the photos and descriptions of the other stations along the route.

But, anyway, I didn’t do that and I will tell you why.

I decided that I wanted everything to be just so. Just how it always is. Just normal. I wanted my last morning commute to be the same as every morning commute. Well, every normal morning commute, anyway - I don’t extend that to being trapped outside W due to a signal fault :). I’m a sentimental kinda gal so part of me wanted to take snaps of things that I want to remember:

• The view from my balcony first thing in the morning
• The dude I sometimes see on the corner
• The windtunnel under the Major High Street Bank office building opposite the station
• The station entrance
• The platform sign with the clock reading 07.17
• The little white and red switch by the tracks that we all stand in front of (so that we know that we are standing in The Right Place)
• The train approaching the station
• The back of the chair in front with my travel pass wedged into the folded up rest
• The clock on the platform at Waterloo indicating whether we are late in or not
• The platform number sign
• The broken escalator on the left (it was broken again today)
• The spot where I stand on the wetsbound platform of the Jubilee line at Waterloo
• The bit of the concourse at Westminster where people cut you up as you walk around the corner
• Where I like to stand on the westbound platform of the C&D line at Westminster
• The stairs I use at SJP
• The exit from the station and a pic of the front door of The Café

But I didn’t take any of these photos. I don’t need to because they are in my head, and they would have made the journey in an unusual journey. As I am about to be ripped out of my comfort zone from Thursday morning, I really didn’t want unusual to feature at all today.

And secondly, I am not unveiling Little City’s real name (even though you know anyway) because I have become quite attached to the name Little City. I think it rather suits the place and I much prefer it to its real name. And I also think it would be wrong, in an indescribable way, to actually say where it really is. Perhaps that makes sense, perhaps not.

So, everything was the same. I arrived one minute later than usual, at 7.18 but that isn’t really unusual if I am honest. I just find that 7.17 is most common for me. I stood next to Sun Man and outside WH Smiths and opposite that funny switchy thing. Lady was late arriving as has become norm now. My iPod was on. We got on the train as usual. Sun Man sat on the right of the aisle, which is not quite right, but not enough to make me feel uncomfortable. It was enough that he was there. And Lady arrived and he stood to let her in so she could have the window seat and he the aisle seat (he always sits in the aisle seat). I sat next to a woman who I sit next to a lot of the time but haven’t mentioned. She always listens to her iPod (a blue Mini) with her coat over her knees so it looks like she is a small bug in a sleeping bag.

The train made usual progress to Waterloo. I sent my usual morning text to my banker friend and a few to a mate from uni who does her commuter thing at around the same time. It was all like it should be. I swung between very happy to be there and swallowing the lump in my throat because it was the last official morning commute and I won’t be part of it anymore.

As we went through Vauxhall I gathered my bits and pieces and made my way to the door. Others already waiting were obviously not regulars on this journey as they were facing the wrong door to get off. Everyone knows that we always draw into a right hand side platform on the 7.30. And usually it is the same platform as well. So I faced the right way and I expect that looked a little odd (although when I was correct I felt rather smug as I was aware of them turning around).

I was staring absent-mindedly through the glass into the carriage as we drew into Waterloo. Lady and Sun Man were in the aisle just inside the main part of the carriage, queuing for the exit. They are always there when we pull in. I then realised that Lady appeared to be looking at me, and trying to catch my eye. I looked at her and she smiled and waved at me. I smiled and waved back.

And it was then that I decided to behave out of the ordinary.

I got off the train and waited while others got off behind. Then Sun Man disembarked, followed by Lady. I took a deep breath and walked up to them and Lady looked at me as I reached out and touched her arm and I said: “I know this seems a bit silly, but I just wanted to say goodbye.” And she smiled and said: “Oh, so have you moved now?” and I replied: “Mostly over the weekend. Today is my last morning on this train.” Lady said: “Congratulations!” and I laughed and said: “Well, I am not sure congratulations are in order, but I know what you mean.” Sun Man was walking along and he smiled as well. And with that I wished them well, nodded my goodbye and set off on my reasonably fast walk to the Jubilee gates.

It was busy today trying to get to the platform. I didn’t see Sun Man on the tube platform, as I had walked a bit faster than usual to make up for the quick chat, and I was just going through the barrier when I saw him on the upper walkway, rather than just swooping down to get my newspaper. When I got to the platform there was a train there so I leapt on, and he didn’t make it down to the platform before we pulled away. I am half sad-half glad about this. Sad because it would have been fitting to see him one last time of a morning standing at the very end gate waiting for the tube, but glad because I know I would have felt more upset and being more upset than I already felt (ie, possibly tearful) on a tube is a little embarrassing.

So, that was the beginning of the end. Tonight I will get my usual 5.35 home for the last time. I hope that Sun Man makes it – it is his usual train too, as you know – because I would like everything to be just so for that journey as well.

Then tomorrow I am giving my keys back and saying goodbye to Beardy (which will be messy and probably leave me in a state unfit for driving) before driving up to new home in London. I need to think of a name for my new place, but these things usually give themselves a name so I will leave it to time to work out.