Sometimes I Think I Can Fly

This morning, my favourite weather, blustery, bit of mist but not full-on rain, standing on the train platform with the wind whipping my hair into a Pre-Raphaelite birdsnest, I stood on my tip-toes, my nose into the wind, arms outstretched, and almost thought that the wind would carry me up, up, and away, soaring over London like a bird, or Mary Poppins...