Back in Todmorden after a day on the trains among snifflers snufflers manspreaders and loudly phoners. Plenty to talk about after my Cambridge Syd adventures which has given a whole new lease of life to several thoughts, some of which I'll share tomorrow.

Oh I don't know. The one who spoke in non stop RAF banter was fun. Mad as cheese.

Where's my 'I survived the rail replacement bus service' badge? That's what I want to know.

This was taken y/day afternoon btw. Peak activity. Wait till those bad boys hit Chatteris. The locals won't know what hit them.

It's been focus grouped to within an inch of its life for some time now. Oh to be a fly on the wall at editorial meetings. One part Nathan Barley to one part Nepo watch. I flick thru it in the newsagents occasionally going and you are, and you are....

I expect daily newspapers will outlive me, but I suspect not by much.

Apparently so. Still, I see the Strokes are still going.

What is the most dismal bus station in a prestigious English town or city? Send your entry to Cambridge bus station competition and make sure you clearly mark your entry soulless waiting roomless toiletless café or snack bar less shithole

Just bought the Observer for the first time in ages. That should make the bus replacement leg of the journey to Peterborough go with a swing. Why do all those profiles and featurettes in the Arts section read like they've been written for 200 arts people?

So. That Soft Machine line up and set last night. I remember going to see Lieutenant Pigeon in 1993 with none of the original members and they did mostly Sweet and other glam rock covers. Anyway, where was I?

Cecil Beaton, who did all the best portraits of her. She was always a bit skittish with him and was up for anything by all accounts. (Her actual words. "Ok. Hit me Cecil baby. I'm all yours. How do you want me? Garage forecourt? Fitzrovia bombsite?")

I was going to pop over to Grantchester meadows for 55th anniversary sakes but I have mostly been buying v cheap charity shop books instead. Cambridge rocks a good town and gown chazza.

Smashing the system one ticket at a time.

Partially shaded quadrants I formerly ghost drifted in my invisible teens part 98. Sydney Sussex (as I knew him then.)

Several people had phones on the go but no official filming no.

Also no hand held mic, harsh lighting and scripted questions for me. Two hours of solid freestyling mate. Word jazz.

It's Ding! Little lightbulb 💡 man. There was standing room only. Several people had to be turned away. One of the most enjoyable Syd talks I've ever done. There was a lot of love for Unsung Unsaid too which was immensely pleasing.

Is me. Was me. Great to be on my home psychogeographical territory.

I saw the best minds of my generation something something canoodling and sharing a twix....

The far left's dreams are in shreds this morning but we've been here before comrades and we will fight back. We will fight back.