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I once had a friend who lived and worked in Milton Keynes for around two years. He said it was one of the most soul-crushing periods of his life. Much like the 25/26 season, if you support the soccer.

A slightly surprising playlist from a driver who clearly felt he was at the controls of an interstellar spacecraft as the power rock trundled up the A590. I was attempting productivity on the bus, so while writing an Easter Service and applying to go to Berlin, various nonsense swirled. Subjects covered: Sam Foley's role as a Centrist Dad, Kool and the Gang, lavender and urine smells and the unacceptability of Roy Orbison.

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour. Really happy, in fact. Sat in the Friendship, which is stretching the term 'local' somewhat for me, given that although Prestwich was once my stomping ground, I now reside on the other, less yuppiefied side of Heaton Park.

Much like the number 3 from Duttons to the Town Hall, or the former Prince Andrew, the Trust soccer bus to Salford was cancelled.