It Happened

It happened: David got a job. Cue face-melting scenes a la the doddering Nazis at the end of Indiana Jones & The Raiders Of The Lost Ark.

Not just got a job, indeed, but started it too! So while last week was all lie-ins (8am), leisurely coffee breaks and half-a-dozen hours of streamed Premier League, this week is all early starts (6am), hastened green tea breaks and half-a-dozen projects on the boil (read: one project, currently).

It is a role, of course, in which trade secrets are par for the course, and I couldn't possibly begin to divulge any of the sensitive information with which I have so far been entrusted. What I can tell you is my job title (Digital Copywriter), place of employment (DAC Group) and current dress code (smart quasi-casual).

So what? Is that it? Is that all I can reveal? At this stage, yes: it's almost 9pm - my new bedtime - and time is of the essence.

But let me tell you something about Canadian commuting: it's no joke. According to the ever-reliable Google Maps, I live a 20-minute highway drive from my office. While I can drive and do have access to a car (a Chevy... Malibu? Does that sound right?), public transport is my only real option; not much of an option, but my only option nonetheless.

• Option A) Walk 20 minutes to the GO Train station; take the 35-minute GO Train journey to Toronto Union Station; take the subway 27 minutes north and then 10 minutes east; walk the remaining five minutes. TOTAL: something like 90 minutes, best case.
• Option 2] Walk 15 minutes to the nearest TTC bus stop; ride the bus a mere 47 minutes and umpteen dozen stops; switch buses and take another bus for something like 20 minutes. TOTAL: probably more than 90 minutes.

Neither arrangement is satisfactory, but I had resigned myself to either one or the other with a projected purchase of a Kindle e-reader, leaving sufficient time for me to read every book ever written within a month or two of beginning my tortuous travails. I was even learning towards the TTC bus, despite assurances from literally everybody I've met that a journey on one is punishment worse than death:

What Torontonians describe when talking TTC buses

Luckily for me, Tony happens to work on the same street, and so had long ago figured out the best way to get to our almost-shared destination: bat your lashes nicely at the man or woman of the house, get a lift to the nearest GO Bus stop (there's a GO Bus?!), ride said bus for half-an-hour and then you're a mere two trains and four stops from your office. Easy as pie, and the GO Bus sounded a dream...

Not pictured: complimentary massage and pep-talk

And so I've started to clock the miles on the glorious GO Bus (it's more of a coach, actually) and have shelved plans to acquire an e-reader (temporarily, I suspect, as our morning chatter is already grinding to a half - especially when, as happened this morning, we have to sit at opposite ends of the bus). It's a commute that's poor on paper but not so soul-destroying in practice: we can pick over the finer points of the Metro newspaper, eavesdrop on combative passengers (you're expected to use a pre-purchased pass, not pay cash) and silently judge passing motorists who are texting, dozing, applying makeup or otherwise being criminally inattentive. The swanky show-offs.