For all the second-hand excitement of The Burning Bus Saga, it was not the most interesting thing to happen during that very cold morning at the bus stop. Within the curiousness of the situation, I got chatting to the young woman sat next to me who was also a prospective passenger of the troubled S3 to Oxford. In our abundant Englishness, we exchanged a polite word about the weather. Within the space of a minute, she told me that in this cold her left foot always gets much colder than her right one. I considered this for a second with a nod and a thoughtful expression, but I couldn't relate. I didn't tell her this, but I have always had excellent circulation. In between short bursts of her Snapgramming her Instafriends on Tweetchat, the conversation moved onto hands. No one here knows me, I thought. I'm going to throw a pebble into The Lake of Surrealism just to see what happens. "Imagine ...