I feel sorry for the lad standing there in the rain, waiting for a bus
that is invariably late. Isn’t it always? He is young and hasn’t worn
a coat. I can see him shivering from here. Standing in the cosy
warmth of my living room, for once I’m glad I have nowhere to go.
I’m not sure I have much to show for my time spent on this earth.
But I have had a comfortable ringside seat to watch it all go past
me through the double glazing.
I see the boy jumping on the bus. Another journey begins.