I went up to stratford this afternoon, wanting to take my mind off politics for a while and wanting too to start buying gifts for certain upcoming midwinter festivals. It was a spur of the moment decision. Stratford strikes me as an amazing place: not so very long ago it was a building site, but it is now a maelstrom of modern shops, a beautiful park, rivers, and of course the olympic stadium and associated venues. Yet it is also a place I associate with amazing things: just a few weeks ago, Lyn played a set there; and before that it was the site of the awesomeness of the olympics and paralympics, where 007 met the queen, and where the paraorchestra played, and where so much incredible stuff happened. Moreover, to get there, I have to pass the o2 arena, where just a few weeks ago we saw Python play, something so special to me that I can’t put into words how lucky I feel to have been there.

It occurs to me that these two amazing places are now semi-sacred for me. In a way they have taken on a form of secular hallowdness: they are places in which events took place which are so special, so unique that I count them as highlights of my life. I’ll thus probably always relish going back to both. Reflecting on this, though, I wondered if there are other places like that for me – maybe the old campus at Alsager could be one. Does everyone have places of such intense, happy memories I wonder.