To Hull

In half an hour or so, and may not be able to post tonight, depending on facilities at the hotel. Three changes of train. Three changes gets you in quicker than two changes because two changes means sitting an hour on the platform at Grantham, a pleasure I incline to decline.

There is a long, somewhat dreary poem to be written about hours spent on desolate platforms. Philip Larkin in collaboration with James (B.V.) Thomson would seem appropriate; at any rate, something on the infernal side of lugubrious. If it were me I might begin with Thetford with a Canto on 'Ely after 10pm' soon after. The language should, ideally, have some of the qualities of sludge.

Meanwhile:

Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain..

Now to the rubies of the Humber.