London

Last Management Group before Greenbelt today.

The Lovely Jude has the day off work so we decide to address our shocking record of never having time to catch up and arrange to meet for a drink pre-meeting.



Sitting outside Liverpool Street station waiting to meet, I watch the world go by.

People rushing by, anonymous, dark suits, drawn brows, dead eyes, no chat, no smiles.

I'm glad I'm not part of this world. I'm glad I don't live in this city. However grey Manchester's skies might be, its people are never this monochrome.

But just as I'm thinking this a bubbly ginger head appears in light coat and I remember London is just the financial district in rushhour. A positive beacon of light.

Grabbing the drinks in the bar two things strike me. I expect more than 2 quid change from a tenner for two vodkas in a bog-standard pub and the two wide boys at the bar "alwight darlin'" sound like people up north accuse me of speaking, but sound so alien to me ears.

Is this it? After 17 years away, have I finally crossed the line into tourist?

Good lord I'll be walking slowly up busy London streets whilst consulting a tube map next...