Vineyard Cafe

Walking up the jet bridge from SK527 last night, there was a very discernible smell of coal in the air. For someone who has spent the last half decade fighting fossil fuels and coal in particular, it may seem strange to admit that this filled me with an almost overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Memories of cold morning runs through Ehrenfeld but also long dizzy summer afternoons marking exams at the Vineyard Cafe in Beijing, sensations so very different from any sanitized global future.

A coffee and an apple juice later, Monocle24 informs me that it is 9 am here in London and 12 pm in Nairobi, meaning that it is soon time for me to catch my train from St Pancras.

And since no counting had begun
we lived a thousand years in one