I can’t help imagining this song to rain and concrete vistas. New Rail Standard signage, almost, but not quite Helvetica leading the way to the platforms, the faded but defiant logotypes of British Rail speeding past, regulation digestive biscuits and the death of the post-war consensus. It went a bit bleak at the end.

It’s a Saturday night that finds me defeated, annoyed, and utterly vanquished. Too old for this, but still feeling like I should feel young enough not for it to get on my last nerve. All the things I could and should be doing just sitting there glaring, mocking me for my failures. The nights spent not sleeping.

Thoughts of a dry brain in a dry season