Locked in a dervish lodge as it's snowing stormishly outside.
The scene I seek refuge in is this:
I am in a supermarket queue to get snacks for my hotel bed dinner just off Piccadilly. There are 4-5 people in front of me and almost all of them on their mobiles. I decide to log on to the conversation of the man in front of me. He is having a conversation about a girl's life, he and his interlocutor- who I am sure is also male- are tearing her decisions apart. I feel for the girl.
It's a very solid moment, shiny and brittle with suffusedness. Stagy, larger than life. I half expect someone to come and ask me whether I have the right seat.
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