Change. History. Time. Feet.

I need to grow up and get better shoes. You can’t traipse around London for three days solid in worn-out Converse and not expect your feet to hate you by the end of it. Those soles are thin at their best, when they’re new, but when you’ve worn them the equivalent of ten times round…

Spat On In A Bookshop

Bookshop. Morning. The shopgirl wipes the spittle from her face as a man in a long black coat beflecks her with the bitty remains of his Full Monty breakfast. “No. Sorry, sir. Still no date on the new Game of Thrones book.” “Well, can’t you have a word?” “With George R R Martin, the author?”…