I refer to the mad exhilorating rush followed by entry into that warm tight space we all know so well! Yes, you've guessed it! The morning commuter train journey to work. While I am not proud of it, both myself and my faithful guide dog trundle half asleep to the station, press and squeeze our way onto a smelly steaming metal hulk, all for the pleasure of half an hour of pure despair before the final dash to work at the other end; dodging the half crazed side street drivers of central London who believe that the only way to exit from a side street is very rapidly indeed so as to scatter any pedestrians who may be crossing at the time.

Commuters are a rather surly bunch, who generally believe that to hold a conversation on a train is about as sinful as wife swapping in St. Paul's, however the sight of an elderly golden Labrador seems to enliven them to such an extent that a large mallet is usually the only method available to indulge in the anti-social enjoyment of ones walkman (I am of course only guessing that this would do the trick). Indeed, one especially entertaining gentleman of my acquaintance insists on patting me on the shoulders fairly frequently and discussing how tired the dog must be having to get up so early, and how great friends we must be for him to make this sacrifice on my behalf.

The standard queries of:
"How old is he?"
"He must be your best friend!" or,
"What is his name?"
are usually followed by a long and rambling history of the pets that have lived and died (with specific emphasis on the died) in the respective households of pure strangers. It's enough to reconcile you to death, or at least unemployment.

These monologues usually comprise the most pointless and irritating utterances which I have ever been unfortunate enough to hear. After all, of what relevance is the dogs name or age? And once the question has been asked then why do the same individuals ask it again? Is it simply that they have the memory of a goldfish or do they consider that I am unlikely to recall that they asked the same question yesterday (or in some freaky cases just ten minutes ago)? Furthermore, the painful and tragic deaths of dogs, cats, and in one extremely bizarre case, a rare species of tropical fish, are not something I wish to hear about, particularly as my dog gets older and more infirm.

My irritation is, in many cases, unfair, as people are simply trying to make conversation in the easiest way available to them. However, there are times when your patience is at its lowest ebb, and you really just want to be ignored like everyone else. There is after all a reason why commuter trains are mostly silent, sullen depressing places and that is because everyone aboard is so miserable. The ones who speak to you are usually those who dislike this aspect of commuting. However, "Listen up folks! I'm not your counsellor and I am not a nice guy, so just --- off and leave me in peace!"