Awake at six in the morning I lie in the pre-dawn gloaming listening to the irregular drip and splash of rain through guttering and downpipes.  A sky pearl grey and bleak, a damp-in-the-bones sort of day, of wet streets and people scurrying for shelter and pedestrians dodging the malice of taxicabs driving too fast through puddles.  Restless, I borrow a brown astrakhan coat against the weather and set out into the drizzle to run errands far too early before a date for lunch at Angel with girlfriends at midday...

...going to Angel demands wings...


   
Angel is only on one line, the Northern.  It is an oddity in that one of the platforms looks three times wider than the other.  Look, you could play cricket in all that space:


Very peculiar to disembark and have acres of room.  Angel also has the longest escalator, a fact exploited not so long ago when a chap skied down it.  There's video footage of it on YouTube...  Oddly, when I was actually on it, it didn't feel any deeper than normal, but then we were talking about shoes and pillow fights.