In which I reflect on Easter, the ultimate ‘impossible’ thing.
In which I argue about something I don’t actually care about just for the sake of it.
In which I reflect on the London Underground and the city above it.
In which I write about the economy of language and the imagination behind pangrams.
In which I write about Elizabeth II, by the grace of God, Queen and Defender of the Faith.
In which I dream about owning and running a shop that sells works of literature and hot beverages.
In which I make a list of strange things that I do, and start that list from 0.
In which I recall how I was forced to face up to my fear of the dark.
In which I dream about my ideal space for sitting and writing.
In which I think about the global God who wants local action.