For various reasons I find myself in France watching Doctor Who as opposed to my home. After NOT CRYING AT ALL during the emotional bits, I pack up and leave. As I live about 30 minutes away from my location, I hook up my iPod shuffle and leave my musical selection to fate.
After five minutes, I find myself wandering through the centre of Huningue. Recent road reworkings have left the town without a street, without a centre and without people. My iPod selects Nitzer Ebb at 130 BPM, and I find myself inadvertendly stomping through craters on my way home.
After fifteen minutes, I realise I've been marching like a Cyberman. I stop for a moment and remove my headphones, taking in the silence. The silence continues. There is no-one around. It's just after 2100, and there should be folk in the pubs and restaurants watching the third place playoff of the World Cup.
But there's no-one, anywhere. I walk past a home that's been derelict for years. The next one has a dining table with a pot of mustard and cutlery, but no sign of life.
I take a moment to catch my breath. If there was an apocalypse, surely the BBC would have said something?
And then I realise, I was watching the programming on a fifteen minute delay. Je suis L'homme d'Omega.
But there's something in the background. A high pitched whine. I turn, and a young boy shoots past me on his bike at around a thousand miles an hour. My heart matches his speed.