I have a ticket to ride, ladies and gentlemen.
This afternoon, I shall be boarding a train at York Railway Station with my 3 children (although one of them is no longer a child) and heading back to Bury St Edmunds for half-term week.
Bury St Edmunds is where I lived for 11 years. Most people in York haven't heard of it, so I explain that if the map of Great Britain looks like a witch riding a pig, with Cornwall as the pig's trotter, and Wales as its head, then the pig's arse is East Anglia. Bury St Edmunds is somewhere in the middle of the arse. I shall be there until next Sunday night.
Throughout the week, I shall be running a series of photographs which compare York, where I now live, to Bury St Edmunds.