Whether it's the hoarse-voiced lady, who directs her phone conversation to the entire carriage, or the businessman who is incessantly pounding the keys on his laptop or even the silent passenger curled into a corner, who hasn't taken a drink for the entire duration for the 1.5 hour journey; commuting is seldom without stimulation.

Although the commuter life is by no means for me, I am constantly and consistently both amused and bemused by my surrounding fellow passengers. The lady who projects her life to all fifty or so of us, via her telephone, lowers her voice when she has something to say which I and the rest of us might actually be interested in, and I begin to type. I'm desperate on this lone journey to share the laughs with someone - so all I can do is write it down for now.

Just as the train pulls up to Gatwick, a few dozen glum faces slot into what empty seats they can find whilst the rest continue their woe-filled journeys with faces that the cliche folk might term 'slapped arses'. To me though they just appeared cold and dampened in spirit by English weather. I'm not sure why though, as today was particularly sunny. It is lovely.

The businessman opposite didn't agree, I could tell. Between tuts and sighs coupled with the occasional groan I could tell the sun was merely an obstacle for him. He had had a stressful journey so far, I watched as he dodged the sun, and adjusted his position in accordance with the movement of the train - he had been so insistent on avoiding even a slight glimmer on his head, it was as if he was a vampire!

I'm nearly there now, and slightly less bored. As I said, commuting is not for me - neither is lone traveling.