Corporate summit up in the smoke. The grande fromages insisted on getting the train as there was an evening reception afterwards, so there’d be no returning to Newbury via Croydon early. I left at 6:45 on the dot, telling Abbey not to wait up and that I’d have no time to speak to the children today. As long as they keep their eyes glued to the PC preparing for the entrance examination to private school, they’ll be fine. I managed to make it from poor school (poor old Dad always was a bit of a loony leftie), but I’m not taking chances with my offspring. Enough, I had big boy’s stuff to attend to.

Got to Newbury BR in good time to get a coffee. There was something about the train journey that made me really insecure. Your space is not your own in those carriages, even if you mark out the space next to you with a big coat. For a while I managed to zone off with my iPod and laptop (quarterly figures had just arrived in my Inbox). As we got nearer to London the train filled out with the melting pot of the capital. Some people looked particularly shifty. It’s these times you realise that travelling by train should come with compulsory health insurance. Then of course it got held up outside Ealing. Nerves were really tested then, and I had to give up the space next to me. Sure, the trains can be a bit crowded every now and then but these punters don’t seem to appreciate that the operators are trying to deliver a return to their shareholders. That’s the bottom line of priority – take it or leave it. Leave it! I took my funds out of the transport sector and back into energy ages ago.

Compare this with the smooth efficiency of driving to work. I just love being in my motorised pod, surrounded by old Ginsters packaging and my favourite CDs – Robbie hasn’t disappointed with his new offering, and I’ve told the mother of my little smashers to get me Rod Stewart’s latest. Abbey always says I should clean the car up but it’s my world and I have it how I like it – she can be all prissy about her Golf if she wants. I also like looking down from the Jeep’s elevated seat at all the nomarks in the Renaults and Nissans. At the office they’re encouraging car shares for those in the Berkshire/Surrey area but I’m not signing up for that, no way Jose. Which reminds me I spoke to my brother the other night – he kept going on about unsustainable lifestyles, something about driving 60 miles each way to work every day and owning three cars (just got myself a sporty weekend number on Clarkson’s recommendation!) and whatnot. I told him to shut up. Beats me how he gets by on 25k – champagne rations! If there’s a snarl-up near Sutton I don’t mind being late as I’ll just turn up the stereo, having texted Julia to take over the project for a while. Nowadays, I’ve sacked trains off and even drive in for the Chelsea match – I’ll have a few jars before with the lads but not after as I leave the Bridge early and beat the rat run. It doesn’t take a genius to work out the quickest route away from Fulham Broadway, especially with sat nav.

In a car you’re in control, simple as. Capitalism isn’t going away so it’s your duty to use the best tools and methods available for succeeding. Like nuclear fuel. Blair’s got my full support for that – and Trident II.

Afterwards we went to the drinks and canapés at ABN Amro: el vino did flow, senhor! Really felt I had entered the inner sanctum with some of those guys – secondment to their Hague head office was even being mentioned. Ja, I want in! Can’t remember when I left as it all got a bit hazy, though I vaguely recall some ticking off about a comment I made about immigration. Cab to Paddington, where I wandered around for a while waiting for another filthy train – how difficult is it for the Africans to keep it clean? I kept going up to talk to people but none of them seemed interested. Alcohol had removed the zone between me and the rest of society, but there was still a barrier. You’d think with it being near Christmas people would lighten up and accept a bit of drunken banter, but no. Should have got a cab all the way back after all.

Back in the car tomorrow, thank god…

Speeding on, Jeff Parson