Tuesday, July 10, 2007
The summer holidays have started. There are a lot less commuters on the train. Instead there’s an invasion of backpackers: young people on their way to a music concert, old hippies hiking through Europe, families with children all with a different sized backpack, boy scouts and girl scouts in what must be Baden Powell’s nightmare vision of a uniform and backpacks in all different colours.
They all clutter together and block the entrances and passage ways of the train stations, provoking icy looks and mumbling-grumbling from the regular commuters, like myself. And at the same time we’re dreaming of the good old days when we had two months to strap on our overweight packs and went were we wanted to go. The sky was the limit – and our meagre budget.
It’s been cold, wet and windy these first days of summer. Not exactly the ideal trekking weather, but they’re still delirious of the smell of freedom.
‘Coming through!’, I shout. Don’t mind this jealous old worker bee. I’ll join you lot as soon as my children are old enough. To carry my backpack, that is.