It’s here again. It smells of melted chocolate at the Nestlé factory next to the station. The sun is out for now and I’m considering experiencing a bit of musical theatre this morning. There are definitely fewer people at the station of late, so I’m wondering if even the early rail commute to Bradford is in some way affected by the school run. On the train I have a triple seat to myself, facing forward with enough leg room for a human-giraffe hybrid with OCD. The sun glints politely through the track-side foliage and onto the beads of dew clinging sleepily to blades of mown golfing green. I look out on my customary right side for the two occasions between Halifax and Bradford when you can see a car perching on a roof, speculating that the brake shoes are probably stuck firmly to the drums and that the handbrake cables will be seized. The sun on Bradford Urban Garden presents fag ends and a smashed Stella bottle as if somehow they herald world prosperity and the replanting of the rain forests. My mind drifts back to a remark I made the other day about an iPad case made of genuine Panda skin inlaid with rainforest mahogany. Such a thing does not exist. The first seat on platform 1b of Forster Square is unusually free of McDonald’s debris. It has occurred to me that one of the reasons you hear so many people engaging in public verbal conflict near the Interchange is that it is very near the Law Courts. It’s remarkable how many people seem to see court appearances and possible prison as somehow inevitably woven into the fabric of life. Quite a few young Polish girls catch the early morning Skipton trains and get off at Crossflatts. It then occurs to me to wonder if I should have brought a jacket, and to hope that someone will think to refrigerate the Morrison’s lager. It matters little if they do not. Perhaps it would be a jolly wheeze to use FourSquare to check in at various school buildings this morning. Perhaps not. I must not lose my sunglasses today. Memories of this day last year when I was unable to resist the lure of some 1664 that a colleague had left in the staff room fridge. There is rot in the wooden sleepers at Frizinghall station, but I’m convincing myself that the railway people are onto it. I’m looking forward to the two road trips planned over summer. The sun is trying to stay. Is life really like this? Dunno. It will serve. Only three more years to the Avatar sequels.