So there’s you, passing the stations from High Wycombe to Marylebone, then going down the escalator to the Bakerloo line.
When today, for no particular reason, your rhythm is interrupted,and,perhaps prompted by a story in a throwaway morning paper, you find yourself connecting with old memories, longings and aspirations.
And now, things that you generally forget about yourself pop into mind, out of the blue.
As though on this commute the clouds cleared and let sunshine in and you were unexpectedly warmed by the view… before the grey settled in and you were off again, lurching for the Central line.
