This Morning

Going to and from work each day, I pass, pull alongside or see briefly as they flash past maybe a hundred other people. Each intent on the way ahead, little noticing my noticing them. Pretty girls and sharply dressed guys; ill-fitting suits and well-cut t-shirts; smiling and scowling faces; bright and dull eyes; attentive and slouching at the wheel. All whisking past on their way somewhere.

Will their day affect my day? Are they going to the council buildings to make a decision on whether to patch the holes and bumps in my street? Or, perhaps, someone will make a choice to buy one of our laptops, thereby indirectly contributing to my well-being.

So I’m sitting in my car listening to music wondering how all these people feel about themselves and what they are going to do with their day. And then, all of a sudden, I’m at work and have to decide what to do with my day.

Oh dear: I was running on automatic up to now.