Where Lines Cross.

It’s fun reading old posts and the comments they engendered. You get to see how much you’ve changed in six years, and you become reacquainted in spirit with people who drifted into your life and then drifted out again. It produces a sense of relativity: have those people stood still while I’ve moved on, or have I rested on pointless laurels while they progressed? It’s neither, of course. It’s all about trains passing through Clapham Junction.