In a car to the airport at 830am, clacking away on the phone. Roads I’ve known my whole life. Small changes month on month and year on year, subtle and unsubtle, that I often don’t see until I’m on my way to the airport. The first library I ever went to. The location of a terrible birthday party I attended when I was five. Streets I walked with my mother. My first school. Passing my nan’s house, which once featured, in its back garden, the caravan I lived in for my first year of life. This road, the Arterial Road, is the road of my own past, and I’m heading down it towards what I hope is the future.