Cook's Blog Number 18: August

I met a lady on the train to Edinburgh.  Her skin was a perfect match to winter snow, her hair held a slight purpley tint.  Over a shared bag of quavers she leaned in towards me, her rouged lips crinkling into a smile and said 'Tell me, if you could get lost anywhere in the world - anywhere at all...where would it be?'

I crunched thoughtfully on my cheesy treat and said, 'Newcastle.  Because 1. I know my way round it dead well so I wouldn't get lost in the first place and 2. My Grandad lives right near the centre so he could just pick me up any time like.'

She did not speak to me for the remainder of the journey and I casually wondered if she had somehow read my mind and disapproved of my longing to try and fit a quaver in the wrinkle on her forehead.