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Commuting? How to make the most of unavoidable down time.
By Nigel Gordijk
It happens every time I meet with a new client and hand them my
business card. First they look at the design of my card. Then they
look at my weirdly spelled surname (from the Dutch Caribbean, since
you ask). Then they read my address.
"Brighton?!" they say, as if my daily commute begins
in Bogotá.
For the uninitiated, Brighton lies on the south coast of England,
about 80 miles from London. To some, that may as well be a million
miles. Inhabitants of the capital don't think The Big Smoke is the
centre of the universe - they think it is the universe.
Most of my clients are design consultancies who want me to work
onsite at their London-based office, hence the lengthy commute.
Some of my 'direct' clients prefer that I work from my home studio
because of their lack of space or design hardware/software. (I've
even designed a site for a client in Canada, but I draw the line
at transatlantic commuting.)
The express commuter train from Brighton to London Victoria or
London Bridge takes just over an hour. I get a seat and, if I'm
feeling industrious, a table so I can work. Most days I prefer to
read or listen to my MP3 player. It's a relaxing and stress-free
journey. My reading is prolific, making me probably the most knowledgeable
designer you'll ever meet. I usually go through three magazines
a week.
A couple of tips: make good use of your commute and don't treat
your journey as an unnecessary waste of time. That doesn't mean
you have to do work; if you're fortunate enough to have some control
over your time and workload, it shouldn't be necessary. Instead,
do something that isn't directly related to what you do for a living
- read the latest Patricia Cornwell (unless you're a coroner), play
with your GameBoy, or do The Times crossword. I find that thinking
of this as my time means I'm in a relaxed frame of mind when I reach
my destination.
Also, every designer (or any other creative type for that matter)
should have paper and pen close at hand while travelling. Forcing
myself not to think about work often results in involuntarily coming
up with fresh ideas and I need to be able to scribble them down
immediately. My Handspring Visor is okay for the odd game of Yahtzee
or to make a note of a meeting in the diary, but despite its graffiti
function it's still too slow for recording information quickly.
Travelling between Brighton and London isn't a problem - getting
anywhere from within London is. On a good day, the journey from
the mainline train station to a client's office takes half an hour;
on a bad day you can double that.
I prefer the bus to the tube, despite the fact that the rush hour
traffic brings London to a standstill. (To the bemused car drivers
looking for the reason why they aren't moving - duh! You're sitting
in it!) I'd rather have scenery to look at - even if that means
dull, grey office buildings on a wet Monday morning - than be stuck
in an underground warren. Can you think of anything less inspiring
than being in a black hole?
Besides, you can forget catching the tube from London Victoria
to, well, anywhere. The herds of suits milling about is a regular
sight whenever the station gates are shut in the morning due to
overcrowding on the platform.
I used to live in north London, travelling into the centre of the
city to work. That commute used to be an hour each way. Being 5'
5", I'd had enough of examining my fellow commuters' breast
pockets and shoulder pads. Adding half an hour to my morning journey
is a small price to pay for living a ten-minute walk from the sea.
Okay, so there's a down side. In order to get to a client's office
by 9.00 a.m. I need to catch the 7.17 from Brighton, which means
being away from home for about 12 hours if I'm working an eight
hour day.
I have the best of both worlds - it's just a shame they're so far
apart. To the Londoners who can't understand why I would want to
travel all the way from Brighton every morning, you're missing the
point: I get to go back there everyday, too. |
