Nearly missed the train to London following a mad dash through town, only catching it thanks to a five minute delay due to signal problems. We happened to stop in Macclesfied, long a ‘care in the community’ dumping ground, when I went for a coffee. Sure enough a confused soul got on. He can only walk through the train backwards and when asked if he’s okay he sits on the floor. I’ve witnessed this sort of thing on most visits to Macclesfield.
It may be infectious. On return I noticed that everything has something to say — ‘keep it clean,’ ‘fancy a cuppa,’ ‘take me away’ — and Katharine said, ‘and everything has it’s own voice’. Last night I said aloud, ‘what now?’ and my French printer replied in it’s macho American accent, ‘the paper has jammed’. And it had. The things are alive.
This posted via mobile via Flickr and so not so closely proofread. Click the pic to see it large (there’s an ‘all-sizes’ tab for really large).