HS2

The only black cloud over a lovely day, yesterday, was that I misplaced a credit card. I know had it when we arrived at the hotel because I used it to pay for our room. After that, I wasn't so sure. The Minx was on the phone when we arrived, so I was pretty sure that I took it to our room, carrying it in my hand along with the receipts.

Once we'd dropped off our bags, we'd gone to the Exmouth Arms for a drink, and then when we returned, we realised it was missing and turned the room upside down looking for it. Our tube journey and walk to the Royal Albert Hall was consumed by verbal re-enactments: "Would I have given it to you? You were still on the phone."

There was a further search, this morning, and then we gave up. Well, I did. The Minx suggested we return to the Exmouth Arms to see if it was there. Convinced that the card was in the room - perhaps behind the chest of drawers, which was inaccessible - I kept my doubts to myself: the Exmouth does a good breakfast, after all. 

But as I was getting out my laptop, I glanced over at the bar to see the Minx grinning and holding the credit card aloft. Hooray! Thus, we had a very relaxed and happy breakfast, now unsuccessfully rewriting our narrative to find a version of events that could account for the card ending up in the pub.

After that we walked to Euston to catch the train back to Manchester, passing amongst the buildings that were compulsorily purchased for the extension of Euston to accommodate HS2. A few years ago, I was at a black tie dinner - the kind of event I now resolutely avoid - and the speaker was the chief exec of the company carrying out the work (or some of it; I really can't remember).

What I do recall is how flimsy the case for HS2 was, how I left completely convinced that the vast amounts of money involved could be better spent on our existing rail network. Maybe I'm missing something and perhaps the entire venture will be a transformative success for the country. Or parts of it: everybody's paying for it, yet the route doesn't even reach Scotland or touch Wales.

And, of course, the projected cost has nearly doubled in the last eight years, despite work only actually starting last year. I simply can't see the sense in it, other than to move tens of billions of pounds from the state to the private sector. Still, as I say, maybe I have grown too cynical and I'll be proved wrong in 2033.

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Reading: ‘The Cuckoo’s Calling’ by Robert Galbraith