The background: in early May, I received a train ticket in the post. The ticket was from Nottingham - where I live - to Matlock, dated for July 16. I hadn't ordered the ticket. I had no reason to be in Matlock on July 16. I was puzzled. I phoned the train company, who confirmed that the ticket had been bought and paid for by a third party, for delivery to me. I asked Twitter for advice; I asked if I should go to Matlock on July 16. Most people said I shouldn't; a few people, in a frankly voyeuristic spirit, said I should.
In June, the mystery was solved: the organisers of a reading I was booked to do in Buxton had sent me the ticket. Not all that exciting an outcome.
I started thinking about what it would have been like to use the ticket while still having no idea who had sent it. I imagined detailing this trip on Twitter, in real-time. I forgot about it again.
On a whim, on the morning of July 16, I decided to act as though it was still a mystery.