It’s been a while since I’ve told a tale about my journey to work. This is nothing to be worried about. Each morning I still bravely face Dublin’s public transport system, and boldly go where thousands of others go with me – to the badlands of Dublin’s industrial estates. There’s a reason for my silence about my commuting adventures. You see, I have discovered that a forty minute bus journey is an opportunity for some extra sleep. Continue reading Get on the bus, Gus.
I have been at my present job for just over a year. As a precondition to starting work I needed to pass a medical examination by the company doctor. Obviously I passed as my presence here on a daily basis would otherwise be strange. Each year a follow up medical is mandated. Continue reading A morning medical
So far, this morning has been one of squalid misery. Having tossed and turned for most of the night, I finally fell into a deep sleep at about 6am. Imagine my mood when ninety minutes later I heard the repugnant sound of my alarm clock. Continue reading On the buses
‘So how was your weekend in Amsterdam?’ asked a colleague over a slice of brown toasted batch bread, in the staff canteen this morning. Continue reading Conversation at breakfast
Rarely do I discuss my evening commute – the journey where I return to civilisation, from the armpit of Ireland – the industrial suburbs of Dublin. Perhaps it is because my heart is lighter – the workday is over and I have an evening to spend, as I see fit. There’s no sense of looming doom at this time. My spirit is lighter. In the evening I look on my fellow passengers with more goodwill and less fear (speaking of which it’s worth noting that Bruiser and Beyoncé are never on the evening bus). Continue reading Gobnait and the Greek
I tumbled out of bed, and I stumbled to the kitchen. I poured myself a cup of cold tap-water.
Continue reading 9 to 5
I had intended to get the earlier bus. By walking that little bit extra distance, I can board four stops later than usual. This enables a later departure from my house. Continue reading FIGHT!
The sound of the alarm in the morning is a noise that appals me. It is so piercing, so insistent, so relentless. So inhumane. A clock to the left of my bed, my telephone to the right, they are programmed to start ringing five minutes apart. Just in case I unconsciously smash one against the wall in my sleep. It is wise to have a backup. Continue reading A shortcut through gangland
Imagine a bus journey to a suburban office park in the morning.
Imagine the passengers being transported to their dreary workplaces.
Imagine seeing the same faces day after day, wondering who they are. And what motivates them.
Then imagine that the portly gentleman with the tattooed lower leg , whom you have never acknowledged, is sitting right behind you chatting to one of his colleagues.
Imagine the conversation they have.
Actually don’t imagine that conversation – I’m going to tell you about it.
Continue reading The strange, troubling world of the heterosexual
The tram network in Dublin is called the Luas. It currently comprises of two lines – the Green Line from Leopardstown to Saint Stephen’s Green is also known as the Posh Line – well to me anyway; and the Red Line which goes from Tallaght to the Point and is also known as the Scary Line. When these lines opened twelve years ago, whatever planning genius that designed them, decided to create them as two completely separate lines which never interconnect.
Continue reading A whole new world of Upstairs/Downstairs