I jumped on the underground today at Gloucester Road heading east to central London. Sitting opposite me was a man I instantly recognised - though seemingly none of the hordes of tourists and other assorted travellers did.  An extraordinarily tall Englishman, deep in thought, reading a weighty tome.  He was studying a copy of Lawrence Freedman's latest book "A Choice of Enemies - America confronts the Middle East".  Pen in hand Sir (as indeed he is) Max Hastings was jotting furiously - he's left handed I noted.  I suspect this is a book review in the offing. 

But I was struck with a sudden feeling of poignancy. This is very much my "comfort zone".  I know my way around, I have my bearings here, I recognise people......I am about to leave my world and won't instantly recognise people or places.  It is often a very scary thought.