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Kling Klang

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It's not even 7am for heavens sake and I'm sitting in a coffee bar watching commuters blearier than me. Which is a small encouragement. It's like choosing the right gym; go to the wrong one and you'll be surrounded by trim and lithe out of work actors, enrol in the right one and it's obese German businessmen (guess which I joined?). It's too early to eat but a croissant of some kind is inevitable, served by a smiling assistant from eastern Europe who would like to write my name on my beverage. It's another school visit (as you might have realised)and a breakfast club appointment with keen readers first thing. They will be smarter than me so I shall have to look sharp.

I have moved on to the oldest train in the world. William Huskisson probably graced these wooden benches and I'm hoping we might achieve 20mph if the coal supplies hold out. My copy of The Daily Universal Register is waiting to be read as soon as I finish this. I'm hoping it'll still be 2013 when we get to Bishops Stortford.

Speaking of which, I'm looking forward to finding what day the blog says it is today. It was June yesterday so I'm guessing it's July. 1982 probably. Later,  some Nigel chilli beef should put a song in our hearts for the journey home.

Song duties. The mighty Kraftwerk are in London for sell out shows at the Tate Modern and I can't wait for my turn. Ive missed every opportunity to see them so far and there aren't many more I'd imagine. Last night was the Autobahn night and they move on to a different album each evening. The reviews are glowing of course so let's do ROBOT oldies please and see what happens.

Have an encouraging and optimistic Thursday, see you after 5.

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