I chose to sit backwards on the train so I could follow the coastline. This stretch, this 90 minutes or so up the north-Eastern edge of England and the south-Eastern edge of Scotland, is my favourite bit of trainline in the world. Right now, as I’m typing, the train has paused outside Alnmouth and I can see the pretty, dune-banked Northumbrian village over my left shoulder. The weather is bleak. The rain races down the train windows. Everything is washed out in hues of green and grey, but the sands are still visible even if the sea turns the horizon to vague mist. Fifteen years ago, almost to the day, I camped on that beach. Fifteen years ago, almost to the day, I stuck my head out of the tent at some weird twilight time and saw the moon and the sun rising at the same time. I came up here in the days before releasing Rootbound, to an off-grid cabin at the end of January. The skies were big then, too; big enough to turn pink and orange and deepest blue. I made fires and ate eggs and spoke to nobody for three days.

The train manager apologises for the delay. There’s a queue waiting to go into Alnmouth station, apparently. I’m in no rush; ended up catching an earlier train. Even now I still wake up at some weird twilight time, find myself with more morning than I’d anticipated. Better to wait here, I think, than on a station platform.

members giveaway: on Wednesday evening I’ll be in conversation with Emma Gannonabout her new book, A Year of Doing Nothing, savouring, writing, Substack and getting paid for it. It’s taking place at The Twenty-Two, the very chic hotel and members’ club in Mayfair. I’m excited to say I have five tickets to give away - simply comment below and the first five people will be put on the list.

get 20% off for a year

Other good things this fortnight: ...