"I have always liked the process of commuting; every phase of the little journey is a pleasure to me. There is a regularity about it that is agreeable and comforting to a person of habit, and in addition, it serves as a sort of slipway along which i am gently but firmly launched into the waters of daily business routine.
"...Believe me, there's nothing like routine and regularity for preserving one's peace of mind. I have now made this morning journey nearly ten thousand times in all, and i enjoy it more and more every day... ...The walk at the other end from Cannon Street to my office is neither too long nor too short - a healthy little perambulation along streets crowded with fellow commuters all proceeding to their places of work on the same orderly schedule as myself. It gives me a sense of assurance to be moving among these dependable, dignified people who stick to their jobs and don't go gadding about all over the world. Their lives, like my own, are regulated nicely by the minute hand of an accurate watch, and very often our paths cross at the same times and places on the street each day.
"When i cross over Threadneedle Street by the traffic lights, nine times out of ten i pass a gentleman who wears a different garden flower in his buttonhole each day. He dresses in black trousers and grey spats and is clearly a punctual and meticulous person, probably a banker, or perhaps a solicitor like myself; and several times in the last twenty-five years, as we have hurried past one another across the street, our eyes have met in a fleeting glance of mutual approval and respect."
Galloping Foxley, from Roald Dahl's Tales of the Unexpected
Roald Dahl's short stories often start ordinarily enough: describing a seemingly normal character, or perhaps an all too imaginable scene. Yet that ordinariness is often what subverts the story. One reads his stories with a sense of cautious anticipation, as if preparing not to be caught unaware by the impending twist.
The paragraphs quoted above came from his short story titled Galloping Foxley. What struck me most when i first read it was how he captured in such simplicity the thoughts of a commuter and the almost mechanical regularity of his following a schedule in going to work everyday.
It seemed to convey exactly what a regular commuter feels. Leaving the house about the same time each day, taking the same route or bus to the train station or office - and, inevitably, meeting the same few familiar faces whilst performing this everyday ritual: the schedule is as routine and regular as it can get. And then there are others living in the same area who, too, have to report for work in their office at the same time everyday. Not surprisingly, they go to work on the 'same orderly schedule' as some of us do.
Is it not often, then, that some of us find ourselves crossing paths with some strangers so regularly, until it seemed almost odd that the relationship between the latter and us is that between strangers? These are people whom you see so often, you know silently their favourite standing spot in the train, the kind and exact clothes they wear, and many other details that you have long observed, whether casually or purposely. It's like knowing a secret that nobody but yourself would have picked up.
As the character in the story described of his encounter with a guy, "our eyes have met in a fleeting glance of mutual approval and respect". How true, for I have similarly exchanged knowing glances with individuals whom i see so often whilst commuting, so much so that i wonder sometimes if i should not approach them to make friends. Just imagine we would have much to talk about even though we might have only just been introduced to each other. Strange indeed.
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