Yo-Yo time.
And so it's over. Another day dawns. Saturday 21st October. Back to England, back to Leeds, back to Lovell Park. I crawled into bed at 9 and was asleep. I called into 4 of the establishments I am associated with along the route back, as I left a bewildering confusion of bodies in Leeds City Station, and none of the folks in any of them could really recall where I had been and for why. It's because the world they inhabit is so small that they can't see beyond it... Bless them. They're young, and I was once, and my time returning there is waning. Usually I am kind of excited to step over the threshold, but nothing changes really... It is the same. Nothing in reality is ever the same. It's in my mind that it is the same. Forgive me for I have sinned! Too often have I stepped below the mark. The mark is easy to see, but equally easily to stumble over... Nothing changes. Down Albion Street the morning after the storm. Saturday begins. A lady, who has her space below a te...