Scotsman steps again

The lights of the oubliette are of that ancient kind that is said to burn forever, though some have now gone out.

The 9:40 from Euston to Manchester Piccadilly. I’m travelling on a 1st class advance ticket, because it was only £1 more than the cheapest 2nd class that was available. The plus side is that I get quite a nice breakfast, actually cooked on the train.

At the Mercure, I’m chairing one of five round table discussions after lunch. I look up the topic in the programme: “approaches to iterative delivery.” I wonder where they got that title and then look through our email conversation and discover that it was one of my suggestions. What was I thinking about?

I’ve got the graveyard shift (or the “closing keynote” as the organisers put it). There are still some people left as I finish. I even get asked a question, but the drinks are waiting, as is my train home.

We pull into Waverley at half nine. I spiral up the glistening marble of the Scotsman Steps onto a dark and quiet North Bridge. The 7 arrives five minutes later and I’m on familiar territory.

At home, I don’t light the fire before heading to bed. I’ll be gone by nine tomorrow morning.