Occasionally, there are weeks which seem to reach their Saturday having successfully blended the intensely wonderful with the mundane; if you're not watchful the wonderful is made mundane, but on a good day, the mundane can be made miraculous. This was one such week, and now I'm sitting here in a coffee shop that feels like Sweden, wondering how to stagger around with this balance for as long as possible. The strange thing is, it doesn't often feel like balance at the time; it feels like lurching from one cliff edge to another, slightly nauseous with the thought of potential—it can be alarming to look down and see yourself covered in stardust.