In search of...

It's officially taken two days for me to lose the afterglow of holiday. In fact, it took one day and one hour, but who's counting. Cornwall is a distant memory as I recalibrate myself to being stationary at a desk and breathing recycled air for ten hours. I can feel my neck and back slowly settling into a hunchback position, and I have to wonder why we do this to ourselves.

On Monday morning a ride with a philosophical Hungarian cabbie had me questioning my gnome-like working ways. He exited the corporate world and entered the less glam arena of cab driving, because he wanted to have full control of his working time. He told me he didn't envy me as all of my work is subject to the scrutiny of others, and ultimately has to satisfty another person's whimsical standard.

He went on to describe England as a country of Barbarians with an unofficial count of 30 million alcoholics. I can only imagine what cabbies see on late Friday and Saturday nights. He shared that he was amazed by some of the signts on public transport and that the appalling nose-digging he observed was a throw-back to his nursery school days. According to him continental Europe and the Mediterranean warranted our consideration. As we neared Paddington I came quite close to boarding the express train to Heathrow.

But instead I follow the listless wave of early morning commuters and got the tube to work. And I continue to master my 21st century labourer pose.