But a small thing to overcome

‘Swoop’ is a funny word if you think about it, and not one that’s often applied to us humans, but today it suits my purposes perfectly. I'm thinking of my early-morning progress from the upper regions of Lewes to its nether ones, and of the fact that once I’m on my way, powered simply by one cup of tea and the need to get going, it’s a veritable plunge, with little to stand in my way apart from the odd kink in the road and the usual considerations of self-preservation.

Lewes’s very particular geology is most definitely on the side of its migrant workers first thing in the morning. Gravity – not something I’ve often thought about since getting to grips with what exactly it was – is just the kind of incentive I need to get me up, out, and down to the station. And others seem to benefit from this same propulsion, so that by the time I’m crossing the bridge over the tracks I’m one amongst many, all of us coming to the end of our own personal swoops and readying ourselves to take our positions along the platform.

The other end of the day is a little harder to explain – a kind of lunge towards home, with the energy to get up the hill born of a homing instinct and no doubt a kind of natural phenomenon which assures almost all species a bed for the night. It’s a final sprint in the face of adversity – or survival of the fittest in action – and a reminder of the toughness of the commuter’s life. But by this point in the day we’ve got our coping strategies in place, and gradient is but a small thing to overcome.