There’s something about driving home for Christmas that invites reflection — not the loud, dramatic kind, but the steady, practical kind. The sort that happens when the road is moving under you, the radio fades into the background, and your brain finally has space to stretch its legs.
My day started the right way: squash in the morning. A proper hit. Enough to remind my body it exists. But Christmas travel waits for no one, so the day pivoted quickly into “get on the road early” mode — a decision that paid off, even if it meant sharing the motorway with a handful of drivers whose risk appetite clearly exceeded their skill set.
Somewhere along the way, the background noise changed. I’d been cycling through BBC shows and podcasts when I remembered I still had The Martian queued up — narrated by Wil Wheaton. That small switch completely changed the texture of the drive.
What I love about the story isn’t the drama or the isolation — it’s the thinking. The way Mark Watney approaches problems as an engineer first and a human second. Observe the system. Identify constraints. Break the problem down. Apply chemistry, physics, and a bit of stubborn optimism. When I first saw the film adaptation, I remember following every step — the catalysis, the volumetric calculations, the logic chain — and thinking, yes, that’s exactly how my brain works too.
Listening again now, on the way home, it’s hard not to use that same lens on life. Strip away the noise. Focus on inputs and outputs. Solve the next problem cleanly before worrying about the tenth one. It’s a comforting framework — especially at this time of year, when everything feels busy, emotional, and slightly over-stimulated.
And what I’m driving toward is good. Really good.
A friend has just welcomed his second baby girl into the world — I’m godfather to the first, and I can’t wait to meet the newest arrival. There’s also a kitten called Thomas in the mix, which my cat-loving wife has yet to encounter, and I already know that meeting is going to be a highlight. Add in my nephews, my sister, familiar faces, and suddenly Christmas isn’t a date in the diary — it’s a warm convergence of people and small moments.
I’ve packed my running kit too. Not by accident. I’ve learned that if I plan the run, I naturally plan the rest around it. A solid ten-miler midweek is a surprisingly effective governor on Tuesday-night drinking. It’s not discipline — it’s systems thinking. Mark Watney would approve.
Somewhere between motorway miles and audiobook chapters, I also find myself thinking about work — not in a stressed way, but in a quietly curious one. Brand ideas branching out. Experiments in identity. Seeing how fast something can be spun up, reshaped, refined. Following the thread of opportunity rather than forcing it. Again: observe, test, iterate.
So this drive isn’t just about getting from A to B. It’s about resetting the frame. Re-anchoring in logic. Remembering that most problems — personal, professional, or planetary — become manageable once you stop panicking and start calculating.
And maybe that’s the real Christmas mindset for an engineer: fewer resolutions, better systems.
What problem are you quietly solving at the moment — and are you approaching it emotionally, or like Mark Watney would?
