Christmas for commuters

December 20, 2012

I may have mentioned that I am commuting out. Well, in and out, since I have to change at Feltham. I am tempted sometimes to spend the day in the company of some young offenders, especially when I’ve missed a train and am facing a long wait, but I haven’t succumbed. Not yet, anyway.

No, I go nearly every day to Reading, queen of the Thames valley. And why, I hear you all chorus as one? Well, of course, there is only one reason. Money.

I go out there to try to enliven the prospects of a once mighty technology empire that now seems to have fallen behind the curve, as we say in tech land.

It is quite pleasant in that I am taken to be the wise old owl in the company of a lot of younger and thrusting squirrels, bit one of the sad things about this recession is that people don’t change jobs as much as they did a few years ago, but rather stay put, so there is little young blood.

The youth and thrustingness seems to come from an excess of testosterone, caused – in my view – by too much time in the company gym, which is a heaving mass of masculinity at 7.45 in the morning, when I check in for a reviving sauna, to ease my ageing bones and listen to the gossip. That and the smoking shed outside are the two places where you really learn what is going on.

Yesterday, for example, I heard a share tip which if I acted on it would probably have got me sacked and most likely a few years at her majesty’s pleasure, which might ease the looking pension problem but do little for my health in other ways.


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