This time last year, I was in Moscow - trapped in a vast snow globe - and half way across a continent from you.
I'm good at brooding. Seriously, no one can brood quite like me - when I'm sat on a nameless bench and the sky is just as moody.
Like two giddy schoolgirls, off to fawn over rock stars at Wembley, Alice and I half-run, half-stumble, down Elvet Hill. Fast leaving St Mary's behind, we are town centre-bound.