Cranes and canals of Cthulhu

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. Walking to the train station, disparate ideas tumble over each other - hangovers, meta-classes, vegansim, template programming, the transience of teeth.

In the end the glittering possibilities decay into an unpleasant singularity: signal failure at Didcot Parkway. All trains cancelled or delayed - complete disruption. We chug into Swindon two hours after leaving Bristol and I abandon train in favour of taxi. A good call, arriving at Heathrow with minutes to spare.

The flight is a kata, a meditation in modernity. The comforting familiarity, the M&S menu, the distress of deplaning, giving way to the sprint from the terminal, the bus to Maybury, the drive to Kirkurd. Through dark lands to a darkened, slumbering house.