At one stage in the 1980s my father used to commute from the Scottish Borders to his office in London, flying up and down two to three times each week.
One winter’s day he missed his flight south for the regular Monday morning meeting as the snow plough had not been through the village in time for him to make the first flight.
As he walked into the meeting, a little late as he had driven through the snow and got the next “shuttle” flight, one his colleagues sarcastically quipped “evening McCallum”. It took sone self-control on his part in that moment not to react.
Why was he “super-commuting” at that time? For personal family reasons.
Was it helpful for his colleague, who had driven under 40 minutes (with no snow in London) to the meeting, to make that comment? No.
One repeated lesson for all of us is to seek to understand others before saying anything.
Am reminded of this story as I was visiting my father the other day, then we got up early the next morning for him to drop me off at the bus stop to get into Edinburgh. It was -11c and we had to clear a track to get the car down to the main road. the photo above was what greeted us before sunrise.
Commuting is (still!) different in the winter in the Scottish Borders.