Best of all, the trip culminated with a visit to WHSmith, where the riches of the stationery aisle were ours to plunder.
Even the most recondite items (set squares, butterfly pins, treasury tags: what were these for?) were permitted,
and this booty was then zipped into a large, handsome pencil case which was mine, mine, mine.
I am not generally a wearer of perfume, preferring to smell of plain soap and my natural musk, but,
were it possible to purchase a bottle in which the scent of new pencil shavings and the petroleum reek
of a freshly rubbed eraser were combined, I would happily douse myself with it on a daily basis.
I ate breakfast (porridge and a plum, as usual) and left in good time to catch the bus.
Glen was still asleep, having moved under the duvet to occupy the warm space as soon as I vacated it.
I left her some fresh water and a big bowl of kibble but I doubted she’d even notice I’d gone
until she heard my key in the lock again tonight. She was very easygoing that way (although not, it had to be said, in lots of other ways).
The walk to the bus stop was more interesting than I remembered, perhaps because I was seeing it with fresh eyes after such a long absence.
There was an excessive amount of litter and no litter bins; these two facts were surely correlated.
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