I'm demob-happy today, which when you consider I'm only going to York for the weekend is probably something of an overreaction. It just goes to show you have take your jollies where you can when you're a man of a certain age. In my 20s, I'd need to be flying to New York and a tear-up at Studio 54 before I got excited. As much as I love York, it's unlikely to be overrun with former members of Chic, or Bianca Jagger on a horse.
As tradition dicates, I've spent a king's ransom on nibbles and drinks for the one-hour and fifty-five-minute train journey that one has to endure in order to get there. If things go according to plan, in a little over two hours' time, I should be drunk and pretending to read a fashionable and difficult novel. Yes, I wear round glasses. What of it?
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