The way the cranes are looming above the mist line, appearing and disappearing like wraiths as the fog snuggles round them, then gets shrugged off like a duvet in the midst of the night. Blue sky above, peering through ever more insistently.
Nicely balances the tube journey, which, although less crowded, was just as frustrating as normal. I’m not sure why it’s so hard to get out of carriages, but one invariably feels, as one finally shoots out of the door, like a champagne cork popping out of a bottle. It’s a darn shame that the champagne isn’t actually waiting on the platform.