Nothing much is happening this end. Something mind-numbingly stupid is happening online, but I better not talk about that, even though I’m very angry about it. I was over at my supervisor’s apartment in Crewe yesterday; Alan’s place is so cool, chock full of books, decorated in strong, vibrant, north African colours. He had invited me over after our weekly meeting, and we were talking films and sipping espresso. Alan says my thesis is going well, but I just need to be more academic and back up my ideas. He seems excited, as I am.

He told me a story I think is worthy of recording. Some years ago, Alan was burgled, and books were taken while he was living in Birmingham. Many years later 30, I think he said – Alan was in a book store on the walls in Chester. He found a copy of one of his stolen books, and looking inside found his name. what are the chances?