12/3/09 We’re on the train to Shrewsbusy at 6.30 in the morning. Somehow we’ve ended up sitting in the mostly-empty, first class carriage. I’ve got my retro, bus-boy hat on, we got on Marylebone station and a guy in a uniform ferried my huge huge suitcase onto the train for me, calling me ’Miss’. Given my caffeine-deprived state at the moment, the whole situation’s got a bit of a movie feel for me. Shrewsbury has a few things going for it. a) Ronan’s uncle Fred lives there, who is kindly providing us with free accomadation. b) It’s in the
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