I lied. I’m not on a train. But I will be, soon. I’m at Caf√© Coffea. It’s London, Soho, 21 Brewer St if anyone cares. The coffee is good, the cake is moist, and the waitresses are all seemingly hand picked to be both beautiful and to have only a small smattering of English. None the less, it’s all good.

Anyway, at 23.50 I’ll be on the sleeper service to Falmouth to see Yolanda, because I’ve not seen her in a while; besides, it sounded like a good way to burn a weekend.

But, for now, time to close up and get moving. I have a train to catch at 23.50. And I can’t be late. It’s the Slow Train to the other end of the world… Well, Cornwall, anyway. Might as well be the other end of the globe… I could get to NYC faster.