When could they say (till now) that talk'd of Rome, That her wide Walles incompast but one man? Now is it Rome indeed, and Roome enough When there is in it but one onely man.

When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white

As the 1857 to Manchester Piccadilly rolls in, I scan the windows and realise there are plenty of spare seats, so I hop aboard. The train is a '221'+'220' combo to allow for social distancing - a luxury on an XC train as normally you're playing sardines, so I make the most of it.

Seeking an exit strategy before sailing in harm's way is smart, but it must be related to the mission's goal.