The Long Way Home

When Ruth told her colleagues that she would be taking the train home from the conference, the reactions ranged from polite interest to open surprise. The flight took two hours. The train, with three changes, would take the better part of two days. "What will you do with all that time?" someone asked, as if time were a problem to be solved rather than something to be spent.

The first day went almost exactly to plan. Having booked her seats weeks in advance, she settled into a window seat with a notebook, a novel and a bag of apples, and watched the industrial edges of the city give way to fields, then forests, then a wide grey river that the train followed for most of the afternoon. She answered emails for an hour, then stopped, surprised by how little she wanted to continue.

The second day did not. A signal failure near a border town meant that her connection left without her, and the next one was not until the evening. Standing on the platform with her suitcase, she felt the old, well-known frustration of someone whose plans have been ruined by others. Then she noticed that nobody else seemed very upset. An old couple had already started their lunch; a group of students was playing cards on their bags.

She left her suitcase at the station and walked into the town. It had a church far too large for its size, a market selling nothing but cheese and flowers, and a small restaurant where the owner, hearing that she was stuck, insisted on telling her the history of every building visible from the window. By the time she returned to the station, she had filled six pages of her notebook and had entirely forgotten to be annoyed.

She reached home at eleven at night, nine hours late. Her colleagues, she knew, had been back at their desks since the morning after the conference. Looking back, however, she found it hard to say what they had gained. They had saved time, of course. She was less sure that they had had any.

Ruth told her colleagues that she would take the train home from the conference. Some were politely interested and some could not believe it. The flight took two hours; the train, with three changes, almost two days. "What will you do with all that time?" someone asked.

The first day went as planned. She had booked her seats weeks before. She sat by the window with a notebook, a book and some apples, and watched the city change into fields, forests and a wide grey river. She answered emails for an hour. Then she stopped, and she was surprised that she did not want to continue.

The second day was different. Because of a signal failure near a border town, her next train left without her. The next one was in the evening. Ruth stood on the platform and felt angry. Then she noticed that nobody else seemed very upset. An old couple were eating their lunch, and some students were playing cards.

She left her suitcase at the station and walked into the town. There was a very large church, a market with cheese and flowers, and a small restaurant. The owner told her the history of every building she could see from the window. When she went back to the station, she had written six pages in her notebook and was not angry any more.

She got home at eleven at night, nine hours late. Her colleagues had been back at work since the morning after the conference. But what had they gained? They had saved time, of course. Ruth was not sure that they had really had any.