Tomorrow

I'm headed into the city tomorrow with work - the heart of the city.

It's been a long time.

Many years ago - almost twenty now - I commuted into and out of the city on a daily basis. I would leave the house before the sun came up, and return after it had gone down. Whenever I hear "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" on the radio, I'm reminded of that strange existence.

While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers Turn around and say good morning to the night For unless they see the sky But they can't and that is why They know not if it's dark outside or light

I would iron all of my clothes for the coming week on a Sunday evening - identical shirts and trousers - and hang them on the book-shelf.

I read countless books during the years working in the city. The internet had not really arrived on mobile phones yet, so everybody read on the train.

I became interested in banned books. I'm not really sure why. Lolita, Tropic of Cancer, Catcher in the Rye, Ulysses. I was driven by curiosity, I suppose.

When I first started working in the city, I entertained all manner of romantic ideas that I would make new friends - perhaps propping up a bar like Sam and Diane, or sitting in a park like Forrest, or hanging out at a café like Rachel, Chandler, Ross, Monica, Joey and Phoebe.

It never happened.

The city can be an empty, soulless place. Yes, it's noisy, busy, stressful, fast, smelly, and all those other things. It's also cold, remote, and lonely. Everybody is going somewhere, or doing something. Nobody seems to have time for anybody.

The strange thing? I still love the city. In small doses. And just as much as I like arriving at the huge railway stations and joining the river of people flowing in, I also like leaving too - returning to the countryside, the fields, the quiet, and the birdsong.

You see - I didn't grow up in the city. It was always a picture in a book, or a background on the television. It still is in many ways. Every time I arrive at Paddington Station I take pictures of the rows of trains, and the torrentS of people pouring this way and that. There's an excitement about it. An energy.

In "Halt and Catch Fire", Joe McMillan talked about his first visit to the city, and I've never forgotten it:

When I was five, my mother took me to the city. And we went through the Holland Tunnel, and it was basic. Concrete and steel. But it was also my excitement sitting in the backseat, wondering when it was going to be our turn to emerge. It was the explosion of sunlight. And when we exited the tunnel, all of Manhattan was laid out before us. And that was the best part of the trip the amazing possibility to be able to go anywhere within something that is magnificent and never-ending.

When I arrive in London tomorrow morning, my eyes will be wide open once again. I'll still be happy to return home again though.