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  • There's forgetting how long it takes to drive such a short distance where London and trying to be inside it are factors. There's JEFF The Brotherhood playing in your ears and Grapes of Wrath flickering across your eyes.

    There's meeting new people you discovered on Twitter, IRL, and catching up with one of your oldest and dearest at the same time. There's talk of American dustbowls (not inspired by Grapes of Wrath, but uncannily fateful), mythological giants and as with most of my discussions right now, film education.

    There's the beautiful surprise of one of your oldest friends loping with his unmistakable gait towards the same table as you, both gearing up for a screening at that there BFI.

    There's Jim Broadbent. Introducing Steamboat Bill Jr. His screen epiphany.

    There's Buster Keaton, live scored, in all his joyous, unique, unfathomable beauty.

    There's the tube back to Cockfosters. There's catching up and there's driving home.

    There's slipping in between sheets warmed by your big dog and your beautiful soul mate.

    There's good days and bad days.
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