Pin cushion

There's something rather calming about a walk to work, especially when the journey involves a trip along the length of Parkland Walk, one of North London's hidden treasures. For those of you reading who aren't familiar with this little nature reserve, Parkland Walk follows the route of an old tube line, which, I think I'm right in thinking, was never opened, primarily because of the war. The proposed Piccadilly spur was due to link Finsbury Park and Highgate, taking in Crouch End and Stroud Green, before drifting off up to Muswell Hill. It would have been a hugely useful route for those of us who like to travel in an East-West direction, but sadly it was never to be.

It has, however, left an impressive legacy: a long, snaking nature reserve, filled with glorious trees and merry birds, which, on a warm, late winter morning is about as pleasant as one can expect a place to be. The other intriguing thing about the walk  is that it has a peculiarly shallow gradient. In any other route, a journey from Highgate to Finsbury Park would involve several incredibly steep hills. Parkland Walk, however, seems almost flat. That's why it's popular with joggers.

I've been with Julian all day at his house-cum-studio in Crouch End, prepping pro-tools sessions for our Channel 4 film. I was up until 3am sorting things out and apologise profusely to anyone who might have worried about my mental health when they saw Nathan's guest entry yesterday! All is good today, I assure you. I feel calm and relaxed.

We've had the most curious weather all day. First sun, then rain, then hail. The mercury must have been bouncing up and down like a yoyo. Dark brooding clouds were the order of the day, with a dazzling sun which periodically appeared from nowhere and shone so brightly we were forced to close the blinds. The most remarkable display came when all manner of things happened at the same time. The sun glinting on hail gave the impression that gold was actually falling from the sky, and the double rainbow which followed was one of the finest I've seen. It was so vivid, in fact, that one of its tails seemed to hover over the Tarmac on the street outside. "A good omen," said Julian, "for this project."

I emerged from Julian's at about 7pm, and walked back along Parkland Walk, until the darkness made me start to feel a little vulnerable. The air following the rain was gloriously crisp and clean. From the heights of Crouch End I could see all the way down to the twinkling City lights; a pin cushion of red and white with the odd patriotic fleck of blue at Canary Wharf. So near, yet so far away. When I see those particular buildings looking like tiny glowing match boxes, I always think about Brother Edward, wondering if he's at work, or at home, staring out across the Thames towards the O2.