A jaunt well beyond my means, from London Paddington to Bristol Temple Meads. Paid it anyway. I’ll rue the day, when tomorrow the come down comes to play. For the ride, I supplied my eyes with some humdrum verse to coerce a little poise. Yet by Reading, dreading my cash flow, I’d already sought to slow my fevered woe; Six cans down and drowned in a railrider’s hedonism, I sat pretty, abiding my wisdom. I slipped within the throes of a doze imposed by this loco, arriving right on time, primed for the night’s designs.