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Commuting is a zero sum game with quirky aspects. Commuters are either ultra competitive or slaves to the system. Me and my mate, belonging to the first category, would stand everyday in the same spot because there was greater chance of a seat in the rear carriage. As the train slowed he’d clutch a door handle, being whisked 10 yards down the platform past startled travellers - but he’d always get on first. He’d commandeer a place for me which I’d take at comparative leisure. We couldn’t understand the sea of glowering faces. Problems at home perhaps or a shit job?

6 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt over 6 years ago

    Think I might know that mate! I’m much more Mr Nice Guy now! 🌝

  • avatar

    Steve McBrevity over 6 years ago

    You’ve spilled the beans! You were the meanest commuter ever. Doing unmentionable things in guards vans, going asleep on the shoulders of unsuspecting young women, being ill and locked in the bog, waking up at the end of the line and surviving the Kings Cross fire. I’m full of admiration.

  • avatar

    Christopher over 6 years ago

    Steve, you're providing even more insight into Neville's life than he does! After spending over two years reading the true tales of his life, it's interesting to have them now coming from another perspective.

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt over 6 years ago

    But remember Christopher, it takes two to tango and Steve is complicit in many of my commuting adventures. In order to report it, he needed to be part of all the mischief..

  • avatar

    Christopher over 6 years ago

    True! I bet the pair of you have even more tales that you're not willing to post on the internet!

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt over 6 years ago

    Well that would be telling.... 😐

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