Tis only the second day back at the office and I, for one, am still in the phase of enjoyment and thrills which comes from returning to work after an unexpected hiatus. As a new resident of this somewhat muddy city, my work colleagues are my major social interaction. I miss them! It’s nice to have the structure and balance from work and I actually really enjoy my job, so it’s not like I’m just there to waste the time between paycheck and pub.
And, since I’m feeling so keenly the return to “normal programming” I had a bit of time this morning to reflect on the joy of the commute. Having worked from home and as a consultant in some rather unusual places, I can vouch for the fact that there is a lot to be said for the independence and freedom which comes from being able to work remotely. But at the same time, I miss a commute.
This may sound strange.
Most people loathe commuting. And – to be fair – if I had to sit in a carbon coffin on a highway for three hours a day, I’d hate commuting too. But I don’t own a house, and I don’t have kids, so there’s no reason for me to live in a far away affordable suburb, so if I’m living in a city in Australia, I like to live in a place where one can commute via foot or bike to said place of work.
I was a little worried that it was going to take a while for Brisbane cyclists to get back on the road after the floods, given that a few of the major paths are somewhat damaged and there’s a general feeling of understandable confusion about some areas. But nah, people were up and about and on the roads and where the paths were done they took to the footpaths with considerable gusto. And, interestingly enough, though the footpaths are certainly too narrow for two way bike and foot traffic, I thought people were being rather polite and generous about the space on the road.
Perhaps, like me, they were revelling in the fact that if you get to do some exercise before you arrive at work, you get this lovely, purposeful sense of journey and travel and endorphins and movement which is so much better and so very different to driving in your car and even sitting on public transport. It reminds you that work is separate to life, and that there’s something outside of your cubicle, a something which is brightly light under morning sun and includes a strange swirl of humanity who are all going off about their business as you are going about your business.
Like this fellow. Over time, I have come to appreciate a certain subtlety when it comes to lycra. I value plain. I appreciate the occasional flash of colour, but I don’t need Mapei to get me high. I like grown up men who do not wear white knicks. I think that Cavendish can match white tie while Lance looks like a Gap model. Who cares? But average grown men shouldn’t wear white knicks. This is my idea of a nice, classic, friendly looking road rider. None of that mean lyrca, or excess pot belly in mad dad lycra, or over-enthused safety vest madness, just really lovely, clean, neat, I’m into riding are you into riding and sweet I’m riding are you riding (I’m not).
What a nice way to start the day.
Celebrate Australia, in whatever way you want to tomorrow. But I’ll be sad we have a public holiday for there will be no commute.
I’ll have to have a non-solo ride instead. Keep you updated on how that goes. The bugger seems rather fit, so I’m hopeful that he’ll have a relaxed colonial day attitude to the whole thing and we’ll just swan about. Right?
eleanor j jackson 