Mind full or Mindful?

Last week I had to re-enter the corporate world, I'm not looking for sympathy or medals, just stating a fact.  For the past 7 years I've been a fulltime freelancer but, thanks to, ahem, uncertainties in the policital landscape, work in my particular field has dwindled somewhat of late, and we are a very long way from earning a living from our books just yet (although you could click on the link at the end and help us along a bit!).

View from Grange-over-Sands station

The upshot is that I've been lucky enough to find a job in my specialist field (learning & development, thanks for asking 😀), working for a lovely organisation.  The only downside is that they're in Salford.  I have nothing against Salford, it's just really tricky to get to from Grange-over-Sands.  And I mean really tricky.  It takes me just under 3 hours each way, and that's without factoring in the vagaries of Northern Rail!  To give you some idea, it also takes me just over 3 hours to get all the way to London.

Love this building next to Wigan station

The thing that has struck me most about my commute is how unhappy everyone is.  Very few people smile, no-one makes eye contact and kindness is scarce.  Those people that do talk are inevitably complaining about their boss/ co-workers/ workload, but most folks are plugged into laptops or phones, oblivious to the world around them. Some things in partcular caught my attention...

Walking to work

• On day 1 I changed trains at Lancaster and had 20 minutes to kill (long story).  I sauntered into the waiting room to plug my phone in while I waited - I needed my map at the other end.  I then sat down with my knitting.  Five minutes later two women barelled in, frantically plugged in (between them) three mobile phones and two laptops, then sat, frantically typing what looked like emails, for 10 minutes before their train arrived, whereupon (fabulous word!) they equally frantically stuffed everything back into their bags and raced to the train.  It was 7:20am.  I wondered when their working day was supposed to start.  The day they were getting paid for.  How much have organisations taken advantage of the fact that we can work from anywhere now?  No wonder everyone is so unhappy.
• On a crammed train a lady got on.  She didn't look well.  Every seat was taken and folks were stuffed into every nook and cranny along the aisles.  She asked very loudly and politely if there was anyone in a priority seat who didn't need it.  No-one moved.  Not one person.  No-one even made eye contact.  I'm aware that not not all disabilities are visible but I refuse to believe that every single person in that carriage had one.  I was right down the far end but still stood up and called her down.  I'm not special, I'm just doing what I was taught as a child; have some decency and respect for others, especially those in need.
• On every single trip I made this week I'd say that well over 90% of folks were staring at their phone screens, mostly doing work, but a few were playing games.  A handful of people were reading and, on most occasions, I was the only one knitting and gazing out of the window.  When are our brains getting any downtime?  At the office I've already chatted to a couple of folks who say how stressed they are and how they can't switch off.  I'm not surprised - most organisations will take every single second we give them, so we need to set boundaries to save our sanity.  
• Boarding etiquette is non-existant - it's every man for himself.  If I do pause to allow someone on in front of me, the person behind has tutted, huffed and practically climbed into my rucksack.  I've been pushed and barged an it's only week one.  

Gorgeous autumn colours

These days it's way too easy to have our minds full of things, work, home, family, finances; the list goes on and on, but when are we making time for ourselves?  Even if it's just giving our mind a break on our commute.  How often are we truly mindful - right there, in the moment, as opposed to having our minds full of a million different things?  Your computer doesn't perform as well with lots of tabs open, and neither do you.

So many people are racing through life from dawn to dusk and not really enjoying very much of it at all, then they take it out on others and so the cycle continues.  Misery, it seems, is contagious.

Discovering local landmarks

I refuse to believe it's complicated, we just need to be a bit nicer to ourselves, and each other. If misery is contagious, why not happiness?

My mission is this:  I resolve to smile at people, to be courteous, to stare out of the windows and not to bitch about my co-workers - we are all in this together and none of us are perfect.  There will be times when I fail, I am only human, but if we all tried just a little bit harder the maybe the world wouldn't be quite such a crappy place.

The lights of Morecambe

You know that bit above where I said you could buy our books?  Well you can buy them all right HERE.  You could even read them on your commute! We will be happy to sign them and they make the perfect gift for lovers of Cumbria.  Honest they do.  Also Christmas is coming.  Just saying...

If Mother Nature relied on Northern Rail, we'd all be screwed

I live in Grange-over-Sands on the northern shores of Morecambe Bay.  Every year thousands of birds migrate to the bay to spend their winters paddling around the rich, shallow waters.  Collectively they travel millions of miles from all around the globe to get here.  All I had to do was travel 82 miles to Manchester in time for a 10 O’clock meeting.

My options were the 7:20 arriving at 9:11 or the 6:39 arriving at 8:11. This is Northern Rail we're dealing with. The meeting was important so I opted for the 6:39 and envisioned enjoying a nice warm bowl of porridge in Pret once I got there.

I arrived at Grange station in the dark at 6:33; plenty of time to buy a ticket.  Unfortunately the new ticket guy is lovely but Spanish and has a Spanish approach to timekeeping, meaning the ticket office usually opens at 6:30am give or take 10 minutes. Usually take.

I sat on the platform and checked the timetable display. 6:36 - train on time, good. I glance down at my phone then glance back up.  6:37 and the train is now 15 minutes late. Then 16. Then 17. I check my app; the train left Barrow 1 min late but arrived Ulverston 19 mins late with no stops in-between - how is that even possible? I have time to kill so I dig out my knitting and cast on.  The ticket office opens - yay!

The train arrives 19 minutes late sounding very unwell. I board and continue knitting.  We’re a bit broke so our families are getting home made cowls for Christmas this year.  In fact they’re getting an entire bag filled with homemade goodies – jams, sloe gin etc. – things all made with love and care so they’d better darned well appreciate them, or else there’ll be trouble!

South of Carnforth I glance up to see a stag in the reed beds near Leighton Moss; it’s rutting season so they’re often easier to spot.   I look around the carriage, everyone else has their faces firmly planted in their phones and I’m the only one to see him.  I want to shout out but realise this may not be considered appropriate early morning commuter behaviour.  I return to my knitting.

We arrive at Carnforth. We remain at Carnforth. Luckily I find knitting very calming. They need to reboot the system so they switch everything off, including the lights, but it's OK, we've been there so long the sun has come up.

I decide that if Northern Rail trains had a Performance Behaviour Framework, this train's behaviours would be "Undesirable". I reckon the scale would be:

Behaviour: Moving

Highly Desirable - Moving forwards quickly
Desirable - Moving forwards
Undesirable - Stationary
Highly Undesirable – Reversing

 Then the inevitable "everyone off" announcement and a race across the station to the train I would have got if I'd stayed in bed 30 minutes more and caught the 7:20.

We arrive at Preston. My knitting is coming along nicely; 6 rows completed (it’s 90 stitches a row and I’m a slow knitter, don’t judge me!). I check my app, the 8:24 is cancelled. Damn! I check again.  The 8:24 is not cancelled. Yay! I look along the platform.  The 8:24 is actually there but no-one's confirming anything and there are no station staff to be seen.  People jab at their phones and look around in puzzlement, searching for clues.  I’ve often noticed how the clearly labelled and sequentially numbered platforms at Preston seem to cause confusion. Geese don’t have this problem. Nominate a leader, form a V then set off.  Next stop Norway.

The platform sign says the 8:24 is going but by now we all have trust issues. We board. We hope. We depart!  Apparently (I later learn) we leave behind a collection of folks who still thought it was cancelled.

By Bolton the “tss-tss-tss” from the (clearly cheap and shoddy) noise cancelling headphones clamped to the ears of my seat-mate, cause me to pause and consider a range of alternative uses for my knitting needles...

I finally arrive at Manchester Oxford Road at 9:15, 2 ¾ hours after I left home.  Interesting fact: the Arctic Tern averages around 25mph, only slightly slower than I managed on Northern Rail, but they do migrate over 50,000 miles each year and arrive on time.  Still, I’m pretty sure they can’t knit and fly.

On my journey home the 15:26 Trans Pennine Express train is delayed into Manchester Piccadilly by 2 late running Northern Rail trains ahead of it, the guard announces this indignantly after we've boarded.  On arrival the driver only pulled halfway down the platform meaning all those of us who had listened to the endless "please move down the platform" announcements had to race back to the train and are wedged into the front carriage sardine style. Knitting standing up, I discover, is not easy. The guard helpfully announces that there are plenty of seats in the rear carriages (the ones we couldn’t get to). No shit Sherlock...

The train arrives at Preston. The train remains Preston (Definitely another "undesirable"). The relief conductor has apparently gone AWOL. Can't say I blame him. (Or her). Do geese have this problem?  “This migration is delayed because the relief leader is still paddling around that nice pond we stayed at last night.”

Everyone is turfed off the train in time to experience Preston station as twighlight falls. Bewitching...

The Virgin train arrives & we all jostle for the best standing position.  I nab a nice corner spot and resume knitting but each time I crouch down to adjust the wool in my bag the gent next to me moves meaning I collide with his elbow every time I bob back up again.  Every, single, time.  Starlings can swoop and turn in murmurations of over 100,000 without once colliding and I can’t make it from Preston to Lancaster without getting cracked on the head from the guy stood next to me.

The train finally makes it to Lancaster in time for us to race across to platform 5 for the irritatingly (and surprisingly) punctual Carlisle train.  I eventually make it back to Grange at 5:33pm. My knitting is half complete and on the basis of my journey today I’m considering making everyone a set of matching jumpers next year, and possibly socks too.

As I head along the track back to my house I hear the train hoot as it continues its Odysseyan journey towards Kents Bank.  An owl from the nearby woods answers it.  One of those hoots put a smile on my face; I’ll let you figure out which one.

PRETTY PLEASE - BEFORE YOU GO!  Did you notice that this blog isn't swamped with adverts or pop-ups pestering you to sign up for a newsletter?  That's because we hate that sort of thing BUT we still need to earn a living!  We are lucky enough to make part of our living from writing books - the fun part is writing them and the hard part is selling them. Yes, you can get them all on Amazon too, but we make next to nothing that way - plus if you buy from us we'll be happy to sign them for you.  Just click the pictures below to find out more.  Cheers! 😀

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