November 22nd – Coming through New Street Station at night, rush hour on a foul blustery evening when all the trains are messed up.

I’d rather be anywhere else than here.

Nothing sums up the deadzone, the suck, this awful time of year: no end to the advancing darkness, travel worsening daily, weather closing in.

And yet, there’s something awfully optimistic about it. You know that in a few short weeks, it’ll be over, and we’ll be opening out again.

Patience. Patience.