12 January 2006

On the 7.32

I get the 7.32 train in to college most days. I'm usually one of the very few people not in a suit on the train at that time of day. The carriage is packed with city types in suits. It might just be that it's too early but most of them don't look to pleased to be on the train. They trudge towards their seat (if they're lucky enough to get one) and either sleep, play sudoku or flick their FT at you if you disturb them in anyway.

I have to say that this depresses me sometimes because of the thought that one day I might be doing the same thing as them. Getting up early every day to get on the same train to go to the same office to do the same job day after day after day (except for the 25 days paid leave) throughout the year. But it's not even that that scares me most. It's the haircuts. All the men has a side-parting. Every single one. Some part their hair on the right, some on the left but they all have one. I don't want one but I know I'll probably have one some day. It's inevitable (unless I go bald). My Dad has one and his dad had one too. In fact, I don't think I've seen anyone over the age of forty without one.

One day I'm going to wake up and actually think that it'd be a good idea to put a side-parting in to my hair and that scares me. Imagine it. Me. With a side-parting. I figure I've got at least another eight years until it happens so until then I reckon I just shut my eyes sleep on the train so I don't have to look in to my side-parted future and accelerate the day I think it would suit me.


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