Today, as I sped by train out of London for the first time in quite a while, says Atticus, I felt a certain sooty weariness fall from me. Alighting in Bristol, I thought to myself that while Doctor Johnson's maxim, "a man who is tired of London is tired of life," still holds true, it's also true that man can not live by London alone.

Later, as I walked from my pleasant meeting, the atmosphere seemed much calmer than the one I'd left in London. Of course, this feeling had a great deal to do with my own state of mind rather than Bristol itself. At this moment, London represented hardwork and the daily grind (to which I was returning), and Bristol repesented sitting in the sun for a coffee and an interesting chat – a much more enjoyable way to do business!

London, with it's frenetic pace, is a particularly greedy swallower of all of your time – the attempt to juggle the demands of a career and a family, while trying to keep some semblance of a social life, can take great feats of endurance. Sometimes at the end of the day it feels as though the city has spat you out.

However, I must say that as I stepped from my train at the Victorian marvel that is Paddington station, still awe-inspriing 150 years after it was built, it felt good to be home.