For a number of reasons, I've had some niggling worries on my mind recently. None have been particularly earth-shattering, but they were annoying enough that I've been mildly gloomy and pre-occupied, as if I've been walking around with a small stone in my shoe. I had a very busy day yesterday, but suddenly almost all of the things which had been bugging me resolved themselves — just like that. To top it all, the weather — which had been grey, wet and oppressive all day — abruptly changed for the better, and everything sparkled in the brilliant light.

I ended the day with a little celebration at work with some colleagues (involving a certain quantity of alcohol, which doubtless helped a bit), and left for home feeling like a different person. I started to read a book on the train, but then just let myself daydream, looking out of the window and enjoying the odd, weightless, connected and yet disconnected feeling.

The train was nearly empty, and opposite me a man in a suit sat with his briefcase on his lap. His hands were resting gently on his copy of "The CEO of the Sofa" by P.J. O'Rourke, and his chin touched his chest as he slept. I felt slightly guilty about watching him while he slept, but he looked so peaceful and still that I was fascinated.