There's something so very depressing about an Oyster card* failure while out in the field. The message received is "You are an ill-equiped loser". Combine the 'can't change a twenty' bus driver scenario with increasingly heavy, dread-laden rain that you are balefully dismissed back out into, and you're dealing with a proper New Years Day elemental test of spirit. Maybe that's just what one needs to hit the ground running.

After a re-start, I was travelling via the 55 bus making my New Years Day traditional liaison. I meet a close friend, who's coincidentally also my literary mentor. We go and eat and drink somewhere. From last year's memory, he wore Hayward full bespoke three-piece. I could not fully rise to his challenge, but was none-the-less decked out in some of my favourite, hopefully elegant dark regalia. Prada Spazzalato loafers, black Neal Peal scarf and now pivotal midnight blue Spencer Hart double breasted overcoat. Dark-chic was the plan. As I stepped off the bus  on the corner of Hackney and Columbia Road and into the serious rain, all was about to channel was drowned-rat-chic.

Panicked as realised there was nowhere to shelter, no pub nor cafe to hide and call from. No umbrella either. Possibly my fourth or fifth error of the day thus far. There was nothing for it but to apply full sprint throttle through the deserted back streets of Shoreditch, via Arnold Circus, Swanfield Street and to Padbury Court just off the quiet end of Brick Lane. Leather slapped down in inches of water, cashmere became felt-like and water logged as I ran. Initially furious with all mistakes and circumstances thus far, ran at full racing pace through the dark wet backdrop. I was soon drenched, but equally soon entered a new mood phase. It was actually rather exciting running alone through this cinematic vista. It equated to some sort of liberation through lack of choice. And fast running is always a dramatic thing down urban streets in full clobber. Tailored outerwear at full pelt in the rain is very film noir, I noticed. Sure enough a two or three minute burst had transported me to my first destination. Sodden but madly energised. Odd that within the first active hours of the year had got my head round letting go, allowing uncontrollable stuff to happen and enjoying being out in it, no matter now initially miserable it had appeared. Quite good progress I thought, for me. I'm hanging on to this sentiment.

Of course I was then thrilled by the wit and company of my pal, so things could only get better. And then wetter was we braved the storm again... However later when I proposed my plans for 2012 and for what am gonna do with Style&Error, I got his full blessing and support. This is another positive. I am gonna change a few things and add a few more. No more messing about. It's time to get serious and straighten out. Joking, of course, there will always be messing about, but there will also be some more rigid and tangible coverage going down. I shan't bore you further today, but do stay tuned dear reader. I can almost guarantee there is some new editorial precipitation coming your way if you do.

Stubbs out in it.

* An Oyster card is a Transport For London issued card that stores credit on to use across all London public transport. Without one you are a complete undynamic disaster. A tourist, a day tripper, a clueless joker. Get the picture?

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