This is a beautiful train station, but sometimes my sense of perspective seems to have come from a planet where the laws of physics have been repealed. How am I able to get it right sometimes and so wrong others? Is my brain a swirling soup in which the synaptic trails representing lessons learned drift apart and then reform themselves? Or is it just my new glasses prescription? Or is it one of those mini-strokes with which I’m plagued on a daily basis? Oops, there goes another one. Where was I? Oh yes, so I agree totally, grandfather juice is nothing that should appear on supermarket shelves, ever.