It is the first day of November and the trees in Clapham have decided, all at once and as one, that they are now ginger. I walked to Brickwood this morning under a canopy that’s gone the colour of a fox, ordered a flat white, sat by the window, and realised I haven’t written one of these in nearly six months. So this is going to be a long one. You may want a tea. Since the last time I wrote, I have been to Cambridge in a Nissan Micra, Barcelona for my birthday, Manchester for