Would anyone in their right mind get the bus from Belfast to London?

It’s 2.50am in the morning on the 4th January and I’m at Manchester bus station. My journey began in Belfast 13 hours earlier and it has got another 3 hours to run. The novelty of listening to a Stuart MacBride thriller while actually being able to see the dark Scottish rain wore off long ago. It’s cold, wet and all I want to do is crawl into bed.

What on earth led me here? And am I mad?

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