4.30pm: I pack up & decide to visit Friends House before my train. I love it in there but haven’t been in a long time – years, even. I don’t know why; I pass it often enough, thinking ‘I must stop in’. As soon as I go through its doors, I’m relaxed & uplifted. I browse the books, feeling cheered that others are thinking similar thoughts to me & sharing their wisdom in print. I spot two postcards, perfect for some friends. For the equivalent price of a glossy magazine that I’d have probably bought for the return journey otherwise, I get a book & some postcards. And for undoubtedly less than I’d pay in the station opposite for a comparable fresh organic salad & drink – if Euston even sells such things amongst its fast-food outlets – I get my dinner. If only making alternative choices was always so easy.
I sit in the beautiful neighbouring square, eating my food, watching the world go by & being delighted by two courting blackbirds who scurry around my feet.
As I head over the road to the station, I dismiss the pains in my chest as indigestion – too much food on an empty stomach, I reassure myself.