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diary

ad hoc

The kitchen shows the remains of breakfast, as yet uncleared. On the butcher’s block the component ingredients are still in view. The wall has a proud display of four photos of grown up children. Cooker light is on. Clock ticks. Life still.

Off to the smoke for a gig. Pylons are playing the O2 Academy Islington. Staying at the Park Lane Hilton. Not by any means the nearest hotel but the two in Islington were sold out. I will need to change trains in Nuarque. The next direct train doesn’t get me there in time for a conference call.

The murmur of conversation floats over my shoulder. Occasional laughter. Those in front of me sit there quietly. Listening.

On the platform opposite a member of staff lets himself through a door marked “Private”. Goods train trundles through the station.

Easy day ahead. Decision of the day? Tube or cab.

We fly past the Students Union and on through the University of Lincoln, split in half as it is by the railway line. A tale of two campuses.

North Hykeham and Swinder by. 

A still day on the Lincolnshire Nottinghamshire borders. Crops remain in some fields whilst others have been put to the plough. Endless countryman toil.

Colling ham and Nuarque.

A man buried in a book. History of Thieves by Ian Cobain. Nags with coats adopt various poses.

Farmer accompanied by two dogs poised with shotgun in middle of large grassy field. Nothing else in sight.

No ticket check on train but we did need to scan QR code at the barrier.

By Trefor Davies

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