Here is the situation, I am not able to leave my house to work. That is the simple problem living in this situation.
While others my age swanned off to university, clubbing the nights away and getting away from their parents; I stayed safely at home, knowing with some hesitancy that that life was not what I was ready for. Nestled away far out from a social hub I would later realise I needed more than I thought I did, I carried on with the village life I had known for so long.
I left the house early, avoiding the bustling rush-hour – the sardine train, the aftershave train – getting into the office before it was busy. I would have the office to myself, often not having spoken to anyone that morning. Logging on and running through the to-do list. The normal bustle of the office around me, once some horrendous noise covered up by headphones. My manager knocking on the imaginary door between our desks, confirming costs and dates. Lunch. Two hours of focus, headphones on as I motivated myself through the afternoon. Glancing at the clock at nearly four o’clock I would automatically log off, take my mug down to the dishwasher, otherwise rinsing and putting in my locker – headphones and other useful tools placed deftly next to it.
Students would be swarming round the barriers, I would look out for my brother often when I knew he was going for the same train. Walk to the very front carriage. I would sit in the luggage rack, knees curled up, checking the time, counting down the minutes until the train left. I knew I had time for two lessons of Duolingo before the train pulled up to the platform at my village. Then we would be funneled down the street until we reached the centre of the village. Mum would wait with a cup of tea, ‘how was your day?’, at times I would rant, then escape to my room.
Now, this is the longest I’ve gone without leaving the village. The trains can be heard rustling through the village, walks around the train line reveal the empty carriages. And I want that bustle again. The busy-ness of everyday life. This made up my normal.