Can't stop

OK, OK, OK. For reasons far too mundane to explain, I'm typing this in an internet cafe on Oxford's vibrant Cowley Road, and it may be the most exciting thing I've done in recent time. I was going to type out a few pages of inky scrawl I wrote on the train between Bristol Temple Meads and Didcot Parkway, but quite frankly, I'm too excitied. I admit, all today I've been in the kind of mood where I want to adress my train companions, point out of the window and shout happily "LOOK at that LAMb, it's GAMBOLING". Nonetheless, there is a tangible atmosphere, and I'm loving it. On my left, A girl is having a lengthy mobile conversation in Spanish. On my right, the cafe propieter is chatting to a friend in what I think is Arabic: on the street I passed a man saying "J'habite a Marston", and all in all, it's good to be home.

OK. Lots to do.

Song in my head: "Daisy, Daisy" I'm afriad, and it's killing me from the inside