How hypercommuting can work for female academics
Women in academia face demanding labour markets. Any practical measure which enlarges opportunities will improve the chance of finding a good fit and a better career trajectory. One is to take hypercommuting seriously as an option, rather than ruling it out before even beginning a search.
I commuted from Manchester to Bristol for a few years. It was only 170 miles, but about four hours’ travel door-to-door, which I did weekly during term and as needed during vacation. When I had fortnightly Wednesday morning check-ups when pregnant, it changed to twice a week - but this was still only about the same travel time as four trips a week between Manchester and Sheffield.
Weekly commuting worked well for me, though admittedly my husband and baby daughter perhaps felt differently, and I’m sure my employer would have preferred me to be on hand every day of the week.
What I found is that hypercommuting offers hidden advantages and should not be ruled out immediately. This is what I learned.
It wasn’t an easy decision. My baby was ten weeks old when I attended the interview, and the idea of leaving her in just a few months’ time, at the start of new academic year, felt overwhelming.
However, on being made a job offer, I took advice from friends who had done similar. One said frankly that every time she left her babies she felt her ‘head was in a vice’. But, people like us would probably do the same again anyway. And — she had got a lot of work done on the train. She also emphasised that good academic fit was really important, and not to be turned down.
Another said bluntly that I should take it: it was important to build seniority, which she thought would be harder in the research-only position I had at the time.
Following advice, I requested that the department compress my teaching to be scheduled within three consecutive days. This was difficult, because universities do not have limitless teaching rooms or timetable slots. Compressing teaching can mean more teaching is scheduled at 9am and 5pm, which students dislike, particularly in winter. Prioritising particular slots for those on constrained contracts also has implications for long-standing modules, which may need to move to accommodate others’ constraints.
A further complicator is Wednesday afternoons, which are traditionally free of timetabled teaching in British universities — meaning that ‘compressed into three days’ really meant ‘two-and-a-half’.
It was eventually agreed in line with specific University provisions for carers, and worked out well for me.
For my first term, I mostly had Monday at home to prepare, then travelling down on the 6am train on Tuesday mornings. I returned on the 7pm train on Thursdays, and had Friday to turn to research.
What worked
I found that when away, I could work well into the evenings, and so even managed to do some research during my time away during the week. I also could go to evening seminars, and the annual pub quiz with students.
More importantly, it became a very clear routine. I had to catch my pre-booked trains, and then get all face-to-face meetings done while on campus during the week. This meant I was more present overall at work, and then very present at home from Friday to Monday. The CrossCountry trains had good WiFi, and I did get a lot of work done on the train.
In return, I was prepared to be flexible, sometimes staying longer as and when needed.
I got to know a really lovely city, and my wonderful colleagues and friends in Bristol.
We also saved on relocation costs, which can be substantial.
I learned a lot about Britain by travelling between the North West and South West every week. I was very aware of the invisible line running through the country: life chances are much better on the southern side. It was particularly apparent when people got on the train at Cheltenham. I have a stronger sense that life can be better where I live, because the standard of living was clearly higher in Bristol.
Most importantly, colleagues and students were excellent and I loved working with them.
Challenges
When my husband was away with his work, I had to take my daughter with me, finding childminders willing to take her on an emergency basis for just a couple of days. Childcare.co.uk became an essential!
However, paying for extra childcare added to costs, and involved a lot of trust. One childminder forgot she had agreed to the temporary placement, so I was stood waiting with my toddler on the doorstep for twenty minutes until she returned from a morning walk with her regular children. I still made my meeting — just!
I also remember a traffic jam late one night on the M6, hemmed in by lorries, with her screaming in the back during my first year there. She was hungry and needed changing. We didn’t move for hours, arriving well after midnight at our accommodation.
The trains were better then, but still unreliable and expensive. One snowy morning, I had to join a different train after my own was cancelled, with no reserved seat on the new train. I sat on my case for a couple of hours in the vestibule as the train crawled to Bristol. I was pregnant at the time, and it was miserable.
I do remember huge anxiety when stuck on very late trains meaning I would miss nursery pick-up, calling in favours from friends and family so that my child could be picked up by 6pm.
Travelling long distances when heavily pregnant was generally difficult. After the 37th week, I cancelled face-to-face meetings after a terrible journey home — the corridors were full, the train overheated, and I had no way of moving out of my seat to get a bottle of water.
There were difficult crisis moments, like trying to work out at 2.30am whether the baby was too sick for nursery the next day — and which parent would cancel their teaching. I remember lying on a duvet on the floor next to the cot, desperate to sleep: I had to get up at 5am, reach Bristol in time to print off materials, and then teach at 11am.
Another crisis was figuring out how to make a 4pm lecture in Bristol when there had been a suicide on the line that morning. I jumped in a cab and got to Macclesfield, from which trains were still running, so I could make my way south. Crucially, this meant I didn’t have to cancel.
It was of course very expensive, even if travelling as little as possible out of term, and avoiding renting a flat of my own. Salaries are not high enough to make this lifestyle sustainable, even during better years. More recently, the rises in fuel costs, childcare costs, mortgages and rent have pushed most people below the Micawber line. It is much less possible now.
Hacks
I figured out that I could break the journey at Birmingham: I could make occasional evening commitments in Manchester, then catch the last train to Birmingham, stay over, and still make a 9am commitment in Bristol.
Ticket splitting was a financial godsend. I booked early to make sure I had the same seats on the entire journey down, for each of the four tickets — with a table and plug socket!
I had to be very organised each week in planning my journeys, and getting clothes ready for me and my child. However, taking fewer journeys each week reduced risk compared with a more regular commute. Commuting three or four times a week by train from Manchester to places like Leeds, Liverpool, Sheffield and York involves a good deal of travel risk at present.
Bristol also had good bus connections between the train station and university, so the journey felt seamless once I arrived at Temple Meads. This is really important for knowledge workers who commute: the journey beyond the train stations also needs to be thought about.
For training workshops due to begin 9am, I got into the habit of asking whether we were beginning with coffee and so on, or ‘really’ starting at 9am. Generally, it began at 9.30, which meant I could have an extra night at home and still arrive in time.
Conclusion
It is definitely worth hypercommuting for the right role at the right institution. While the crises were challenging, they weren’t typical! I also had my own office at the time, which meant I had private space to express milk and get some rest between meetings and teaching slots — so it was possible to manage being sleep-deprived during that difficult first year.
There were so many positives making up for being away. When I packed up my office to leave, I felt bereft.
Women have always travelled long distances to work. This is how many people live, just little-discussed. But there is social pressure for women to be the local parent — the one who commutes less.
A colleague’s wife asked ‘how could you leave your baby?’ She wasn’t being critical, just curious. I got used to saying in response that she was happily at home with her other parent and that I saw her plenty on the other four days of the week. We used to have the best of times at weekends, exploring the local parks. She doesn’t remember it now; and she also had a great time being looked after by her father.
If we rule out weekly commutes, we limit ourselves to small labour markets — a problem in the North in particular where transport connections are so poor.
Weekly commuting would be more difficult for me now that my children are in primary school, and have evening activities too. It also became trickier once my husband began daily commuting himself. However, daily commuting is not costless: when there is disruption, my journey to work or back can take three hours. There is a lot to be said for consolidating daily journeys into a manageable weekly chunk.
So cast your net as wide as you can, while you can: it could make an important difference to your career longer-term.
