To London.

As the train pulled in, I checked for my inner child. Confirming my general fuckup, all I summoned was the image of Thom, aged five. Probably guilt. (I really must check whether he saw me buy the O that day on Devil's Dyke). Myself notwithstanding, I managed to guide my twenty students into their own imago and, as chief midwife to the birth of fifteen inner kids, it was deeply moving. Of course, two were stillborn and three, apparently, were already in the room. I challenged all three ego's on this and, one by one, gently asphyxiated their children. It was a cracking success.