Back In 88

I am looking for a book I left on a train back in 88. A book concerning explorations made on the Metropolitan line between Harrow-On-The-Hill and Croxley. An odyssey only reaching its destination today as I now circle low over the Jovian moon Calisto. Close to her sad old face I can see that she was a good mother and an unfaithful wife. Diana, Zeus clad in the form of Artemis all three orbiting a scandalous history disguised as pulp fiction. Her womb is full of dead stars now but she shines by the light of Jupiter himself. As predicted in an overlong story they still circle round the same orbit of West London, where a book I had almost finished must always lay completely unread as a tale planted by the very God's that stirred my younger mind to be a train reading rider in the first place.