By Mitch Potter of The Toronto Star:

"Darley, 59, a public relations executive, must time things precisely to prevent the 60-kilometre commute from eating even more deeply into his life. He's out the door by 7 a.m. for the first leg, a winding drive through the glorious Chiltern Hills to the town of Princes Risborough, where he stashes the car a five-minute walk from the train station to avoid parking fees.

Most days the 7:19 regional rail service to London Marylebone departs on the dot, and a lumbering 50 minutes later he has another five-minute walk to the nearby Baker St. Tube station.

There, he descends into a particular hell that was invented in London: the subway in rush-hour. Darley endures the 20-minute sardine squeeze on the Jubilee Line for five stops beneath the heart of the city by erecting "a self-protective mental envelope. I refuse to allow it to bother me."

Unfazed by luggage digging into his leg or "the exhalations of last night's curry," Darley emerges at London Bridge, where his final leg – a 12-minute walk – awaits. Most days, there is time to pick up a toasted sandwich at the corner shop before he steps into the offices of Chelgate Public Relations at the crack of 9 a.m."

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