the following takes place between 9am and 10am
HY and I left the house at New Malden around 8.05 in a scarlet Nissan. The usual sight of school children in uniforms walking on the pavements, or sitting in Mums' cars were gone; the traffic was clear all the way. Their fat faces must still be on the pillows, taking advantage of the half term. Outside it was slightly raining, and the driver has kindly decided that the umbrella is his for the day. At Raynes Park, he parked the car, whilst I walked towards platform 2. The train was crowded with sleepy beings, reading free Metro or their paperbacks. After arriving at Waterloo, we were then flocked through the gates, stood behind a long, winding queue and hopped onto the bendy bus. People still buried their faces in the free Metro and paperbacks, whilst HY looked up and murmured that he was feeling very ill. I got off at Holborn and walked to the bookshop. The ground was wet but not too cold. I finally arrived at the basement, sat down, took out my ham and lettuce sandwich and Saturday. The final chapter, to me, is redudant. Epitome of lameness: Daisy Perowne has just touched the intruder's heart with poetry, and saved her family. The middle-class remains intact, whilst social low life lies like a dead fish in the operation room. Oh, it's ten; time to open the shop.
My life is more hectic than Jack Bauer's, eh?