Time to dust off the shiny seated puns and the gasping, laboured metaphors. It lives again. Or if it doesn’t quite live, it almost kind of moves, at least. But where to go with it, where to drive it. Nothing much to say, but a wearying compulsion to say it. These are interesting times, so it shouldn’t be too hard to make a few interesting observations on what I can see through the windows as we rattle along through the last few dimly lit stations – the strangest things in the shadows…

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