Dominic Utton is entertaining us one last time

Brace yourself, dear reader: I have news. After nearly three years and 71 fortnightly half-pages, this is to be the final missive from Off the Rails.

I started this column back in August 2012 as a harassed commuter between Oxford and London, partly as a means of letting off a bit of steam at First Great Western’s expense, but also to give a voice to all those in our city who have to endure soul-sapping journeys to work and back every day.

Since then I’ve worked at no fewer than three different newspapers in the capital, until, at the beginning of this year, I went freelance.

I now work from home, my commute is roughly the distance from bed to kettle (though that can still present its own challenges some mornings) and if that means the quality of my life is much improved, it also means that I can’t really justify writing a commuter column any more. It’s time to put this mother to bed, as Shaun Ryder (usual commute: Salford Quays to Manchester Piccadilly) so beautifully expressed it.

I know. It’s sad. But then, as another wise man once said: life is pain, and anyone who says differently is selling you something. So let’s all of us dry our eyes and consider instead four important things we’ve learned together these 33 months past…

1. Commuting is rubbish: This goes without saying – but then given I spent 50-odd columns saying it, it’s also worth repeating one last time. A decade of above-inflation price rises married to consistently delayed and overcrowded trains, and all presided over by a private company making huge profits off the back of people just trying to get to work and back… it’s a disgrace – and more people need to kick up a fuss about it.

2. There’s more to Oxford than the university: That we live in one of the most beautiful cities in England also goes without saying. But the fact that so much of what makes Oxford special has nothing to do with ivory towers and dreaming spires and libraries and whatnot can be overlooked. From the poky pubs of Jericho and old Headington to the stunning natural glories of Port Meadow and Shotover Park; from the museums, theatres, art galleries and bookshops to the vibrant music scene, Morris dancers and countless local community projects, Oxford is an extraordinary place. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

“I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember, the place is so beautiful,” said WB Yeats. “One almost expects the people to sing instead of speaking. It is all like an opera.”

3. Nobody really cares about the exploits of West Oxford Dads FC: But just for the record, our final stats for the season are: played nine, won six, drawn one, lost two. Ribs broken: five, elbows smashed: one, hips nearly dislocated: one, backs put out: two. And if you think that sounds impressive, just wait until I write the screenplay – think The Full Monty meets Escape to Victory – and remember where you heard about us first.

4. I’ve loved writing every word of Off the Rails: Even that time I was so desperately short of ideas I dragged out a buying-a-new-mop-as-metaphor-for-the-General-Election piece to 550 words.

It has been a privilege writing this column – and writing for The Oxford Times. These are difficult days for local newspapers and I’m proud to have been part of one of the best.