And so, the trip back from London, and that invariably means King’s Cross is the departure point. I quite like the Giraffe café, on the balcony above the concourse — it’s a fairly agreeable railway station all round, in fact. Maybe the guy eating the sandwich might feel his depiction is a little unflattering but at least it catches the lunchtime moment.
I was just passing, honest. The crowd who were in the foyer of University Place next door were doubtless heading here shortly after I did so, ready to spoil the pristine purpleness of the carpet, at least. But I’m sure the posters were interesting.
Here is a house occupied by someone with several problems. I’ve been passing it for a couple of years without it changing much, and there is evidence to suggest it’s been developing like this for 23 years. Thing is, it has, as a result, become a tourist attraction, and this probably just adds to the occupant’s paranoia. I will forego identifying its location, although it’s not round where I live.
Last day of a long week spent mostly (Monday aside) in Manchester. Was worried it was going to be a day too far but some good things happened and in the morning, at least, it was sunny. So here’s another picture of a building site. But a sunny one.
Being 42 