Monday, November 19, 2007

In the Purple Zone

I don't know why standing in the icy Victorian wind tunnel that is Preston Station, eating a Greggs cheese and onion pasty straight from the bag while peering forlornly at the departure screens, should make me feel warm inside. But it does. Perhaps it's because it feels so familiar. Or perhaps it's just these days I'm smart enough not to try and do it on a Sunday.




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