Sophie Kinsella - My Not So Perfect Life

First: It could be worse. As commutes go, it could be a lot worse, and I must keep remembering this. Second: Its worth it. I want to live in London; I want to do this; and commuting is part of the deal. Its part of the London experience, like Tate Modern.

(Actually, its not much like Tate Modern. Bad example.)

My dad always says: If you cant run with the big dogs, stay under the porch. And I want to run with the big dogs. Thats why Im here.

Anyway, my twenty-minute walk to the station is fine. Enjoyable, even. The gray December air is like iron in my chest, but I feel good. The days begun. Im on my way.

My coats pretty warm, even though it cost 9.99 and came from the flea market. It had a label in it, C HRISTIN B IOR, but I cut it out as soon as I got home. You cant work where I work and have C HRISTIN B IOR in your coat. You could have a genuine vintage Christian Dior label. Or something Japanese. Or maybe no label because you make your clothes yourself out of retro fabrics that you source at Alfies Antiques.

But not C HRISTIN B IOR.

As I get near Catford Bridge, I start to feel a knot of tension. I really dont want to be late today. 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.

I can already see: Its a god-awful day.

Theyve been having a lot of problems on our line recently and keep canceling trains with no warning. Trouble is, in London rush hour, you cant just cancel trains. What are all the people who were planning to get on that train supposed to do? Evaporate?

As I pass through the ticket barrier I can already see the answer. Theyre crowded on the platform, squinting up at the information screen, jostling for position, peering down the line, scowling at one another and ignoring one another, all at the same time.

Oh God. They must have canceled at least two trains, because this looks like three trainloads of people, all waiting for the next one, clustered near the edge of the platform at strategic points. Its mid-December, but theres no Christmas spirit here. Everyones too tense and cold and Monday-morning-ish. The only festive touch consists of a few miserable-looking fairy lights and a series of warning announcements about holiday transport.

Screwing up my nerve, I join the throng and exhale in relief as a train pulls into the station. Not that Ill get on this train (Get on the first train? That would be ridiculous). There are people squashed up against the steamy windows, and as the doors slide open, only one woman gets off, looking pretty crumpled as she tries to extricate herself.

But even so, the crowd surges forward, and somehow a load of people insert themselves inside the train and it pulls away, and Im that much farther forward on the platform. Now I just have to keep my place and not let that scrawny guy with gelled hair edge in front of me. Ive taken out my earbuds so I can listen for announcements and stay poised and vigilant.

Commuting in London is basically warfare. Its a constant campaign of claiming territory; inching forward; never relaxing for a moment. Because if you do, someone will step past you. Or step on you.

Exactly eleven minutes later, the next train pulls in. I head forward with the crowd, trying to block out the soundtrack of angry exclamations: Can you move down? Theres room inside! They just need to move down!

Ive noticed that people inside trains have completely different expressions from people on platformsespecially the ones who have managed to get a seat. Theyre the ones who got over the mountains to Switzerland. They wont even look up. They maintain this guilty, defiant refusal to engage: I know youre out there; I know its awful and Im safe inside, but I suffered too, so let me just read my Kindle without bloody guilt-tripping me, OK?

People are pushing and pushing, and someones actually shoving meI can feel fingers on my backand suddenly Im stepping onto the train floor. Now I need to grab onto a pole or a handleanythingand use it as leverage. Once your foots on the train, youre in.

A man way behind me seems very angryI can hear extra-loud shouting and cursing. And suddenly theres a groundswell behind me, like a tsunami of people. Ive only experienced this a couple of times, and its terrifying. Im being pushed forward without even touching the ground, and as the train doors close I end up squeezed between two guysone in a suit and one in a tracksuitand a girl eating a panini.