For a moment, I believe, there was a stillness. A shocking realization by all things - beetles, dormice, the spiders spinning their webs in the moonl….

And so on, until you arrive at the other side, among the purely abstract self-harming: the grinding over your failures, the refusal to remember anyth….

Twenty miles on, we have spotted a roadside sign: 'CHAINSAW CARVED MUSHROOMS'. Troubles promptly forgotten, Stuart falls to gawping at the road ahead….

It's a question I often ask myself: what would I do with me? And I don't know the answer. I don't know what I'd do, except run away..

I don't know, Alexander, sometimes it gets so bad you can't think of nothing better to do than make it worse..