Travelling across London underground earlier this week dodging sweaty armpits and gambling on which spot to stand on the crowded platform to be closest to the opening doors, I realised that this commuting malarkey is akin to parenting.
And the only real way to survive it is by entering a deep meditative state or channelling your inner zombie.
Anyone who has travelled daily by tube develops a combative state of mind to cope with what is actually a deeply wounding, stressful experience that should leave our bodies quaking in fear every time we attempted to do it. And yet we do it every day. Well I did before I moved to Birmingham to be closer to family (AKA babysitters) and to buy a house in my price range bigger than an ice cream van.
To survive a rush hour tube commute, there are certain mechanisms and rules you put in place to keep your mind intact. Funnily enough the same rules apply for parenting. The basics are to try and not over think the situation. Stay calm and if it looks and smells like something nasty, it probably is something nasty: steer clear. Other rules for endurance include the following:
NO INTELLIGENT CONVERSATION
Commuting
Preferably do not socialise whatsoever. In fact, me and my lovely flatmate who worked in the same building and started and finished work at the same time would by subconscious mutual agreement stagger our journey times so we didn't travel together. This was not only because she was far more diligent and liked to be in early and leave late (oh yes she does now run her own successful business). We could gas away until the wee hours of the morning and share gossip galore but put us on a tube together and we were awkward and bashful. Talking on the tube in rush hour is not allowed. If you did, you might look around and notice it is hotter than hell and that the man next to you has dog muck breath. No head down, do not engage.
Parenting
Looking for and expecting any form of intelligent conversation will be the death knell of your sanity. Even when your children move out of that non-verbal babble stage and you stop gobbledy-gooking your way through the day, meaningful social engagement will be rare. Conversations with children revolve around three topics and variations thereof: food, poo, and alcohol (as in you are driving me to it). Conversations with partners will revolve around three topics and variations thereof: food, poo, and alcohol (as in when are you home so I can open the wine without becoming a social services candidate). Conversations with friends will revolve three topics and variations thereof: food, poo, and alcohol (as in when are we next meeting up and getting drunk off three sips of martini).
SHOWER DAILY BUT NEVER FEEL CLEAN
Commuting
For those not acquainted with London underground travel if I said the words black snot to you, it tells you all you need to know. If it's doing that to the contents of your nostrils, imagine your skin. You can shower in as much Jo Malone shower gel as you please, but the first thing you're going to want to do before you tuck into your skinny cappuccino and almond croissant, is to scrub your hands. If you want to give up a nail biting habit, move to London.
Parenting
Again think snot but this time all over you and it's not yours (sometimes it is as children can often drive you to a blubbering wreck). If you are lucky enough in the early days to actually manage a shower, it will be brief and with products by Johnson's (or supermarket own with subsequent children). Jo Malone will be the woman that runs the church playgroup and department store beauty halls will be one of those places you used to go to, like Top Shop (not designed for prams). I had a rare child free morning to myself a few years back (I can vaguely remember it) and I went to the gym for a ten minute go on the bike followed by a trip to the attached Starbucks. I thought I was Big Deal O'Neil marching around the supermarket with my coffee, popping things randomly into my basket. I fancied I looked like one of those women that don't wear dressing gowns but cashmere White Company cardigans to come down to breakfast. That was until I did a little reality check and realised my boots needed heeling and my top had a huge grease stain on the boob (damn you non-biological washing powder). PASS THE TIME BELIEVING EVERYONE HAS MORE FABULOUS LIVES
Commuting
I remember the marvellous Bill Bryson commenting in one of his tomes that he didn't understand those people on tubes who did not read - he thought they must have books in their heads. On those rare occasions when you have no book or mag to distract and you have to look around a packed train, you get to wondering about people's lives. This is mostly on the commute home when bright young things have added some more lip gloss and are giggling on their way to some cool bar and the group of Spanish exchange students are about to go and hang out in Covent Garden. You, on the other hand, are on your way home to Coronation Street and pasta bake.
Parenting
We do it with mums too. Most seem to have it more together than you. You see that woman in the children's library with the two well behaved children and the slim figure, the nice clothes and shiny hair. You envy her? Yes. Let me tell you she was still in her PJs at two o'clock in the afternoon, she is wearing her Sunday best because everything else has stains on as she hasn't got around to doing any washing yet. She is starving and about to eat that book on baking cakes as she has been on Weight Watchers for four weeks. The only reason she is in the library is because she got sick of the children fighting and has promised them a MacDonald's if they behave for an hour. Same for that groomed mum at the school gates that leaps in her clean car after putting away her clean pram; about to nip into town to get some bits for her second holiday. Let me tell you, she wasactually she should just be avoided at all costs. Except perhaps when you have just had your hair done. Then you are worthy. Just.
PRETEND YOU ARE ANYWEAR ELSE BUT THERE
Commuting
There is a reason why the underground is littered with huge posters of exotic getaways with straplines along the lines of life is a beach; come and relax by the ocean; feel that soaring sun. The reason is so people actually go to work and don't about turn to dive under the duvet and eat Haribo there for a month. The Government foots the bill as it cheaper than the antidepressant cost. You can also believe you are in that idyllic setting if you half close your eyes. That is until some fuggy business man whacks you in the shin with their briefcase and you realise that life is a stinky hell hole, the only relaxing is leaning against someone's squashy bum and the only thing you are feeling are elbows as you fight it out for the last remaining inch squashed by the door.
Parenting
It is madness that when you are pregnant you can't wait for maternity leave to start, but once the baby arrives you suddenly get nostalgic for the workplace. Not the actual work mind but the coffee machine gossip, cocktail bar laughs and actually having a cup of tea with two hands - not balancing it dangerously over a toddler as you follow the back of their heads up and down the hall. Also the days seemed to go fast at work whereas on maternity leave if you need to go the bank and the supermarket you've had a mega busy day. You may also dream about peaceful places such as the Outer Hebrides, Switzerland sleep clinics and geriatric cruise ships.
DO NOT WEAR HIGH HEELS
Commuting
It is dangerous. You can't run therefore it will make you miss trains. This will mean sore feet. You will get nowhere on time.
Parenting
It is dangerous. You can't run and will make you miss falling children. This will mean sore ears. You will get nowhere on time.
FOR MY SWAN UK BUDDIES AND PARENTS OF COMPLEX CHILDREN, YOU CAN SWAP LONDON UNDERGROUND FOR HOSPITAL OUTPATIENTS (IT WORKS JUST AS WELL) AND FOR THOSE OF YOU THAT HAVE TRAVELLED TO CHILDREN'S OUTPATIENTS BY LONDON UNDERGROUND, THERE IS NO HOPE. RESCUE REMEDY WILL NOT WORK; FORGOT THE KIDS, BEG THAT DOCTOR FOR VALIUM.
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