Commuter Diary was inspired by the ‘word photos’
explanation in G. Lynn Nelson’s ‘Writing and Being’. I
wrote this diary between September and December 2005.


Commuter Diary


Top of my bus
They’re filming at Great Scotland Yard. Be-jeaned
bearded crew stand around, scratch their heads, speak
into pagers. The street filled with grimy, small
vintage cars. There’s a stillness about it, as though
it’s become a 1930s photograph that I can see from the
top of my bus. The end of the street is not visible;
perhaps it leads into a time warp.

Fog
Sitting on the train as it left a tunnel, I was
surprised to see grey woolen fog spread over the
field, a rose pink sunrise in the far distance. The
ground seemed brown from the overcast fog. Later
there was cold October sun.

Sunset over Croydon...
...between the Ship of Fools pub and the Forbidden
Planet comic shop, across the road from the jostle and
rush at West Croydon Station. A deep orange band above
streaky bubblegum pink, then pink fades to grey, the
sun presiding with dignity as it sinks into the
Croydon night.

Rain
My hollyhock plant sodden with rain, its leaves
wilting, its saucer overflowing with oily rain; my box
plants thriving, their leaves a richer green, fat
drops of rain sniper-firing over Crystal Palace.

Ghost train
Today my train was a ghost train arriving out of thick
white mist. Silence, no announcement. A solitary
orange headlight shone. The driver poked his head out
of the window, stopped the train. I got on, cold.

Cold air
Most people at the station in hat, gloves, scarf, long
coat, boots. The cold is even icier today, closing
around you in a thin hard sheet. You come up against
it when you breathe in, inhaling icy air.

Christmas Eve
The station almost empty today. The sky struggles with
sunrise, just a taste of pink on the horizon. Some
people on the platforms are dressed for Christmas
drinks. On the train, a general air of tiredness in my
carriage. New gravel has been laid next to the tracks,
the colour of dulled ice.