I hate going to work on the train. OK, you can read. Except usually you can't because somebody's elbow is in your face. Otherwise there are no advantages, just far too many hot, sweaty people coughing at you and flapping newspapers around.
And don't try to tell me it's safer than driving. Not on Connex South bloody East it's not.
On a scooter, even grinding up the Old Kent Road is a reasonably pleasant trip and gets me to the office early and full of fresh air. Also, you don't have to get to where you parked your scooter at a certain time or be forced to wait twelve minutes for the next one. I missed my train home by two seconds this evening because I'm just too damn polite.
On the plus side, if I hadn't missed my train, and indeed been going by train in the first place, I wouldn't have alighted at Ladywell just in time to spot Concorde go over, flying low and with that wonderful outline glowing in the evening sun. Could be the last time I do.