I got off the bus at the stop that isn’t usual for me – except that it could become so (I was on my way to the library), and what I heard – ‘Amazing Grace’, tin-whistle style.

My glasses are not very good (I must get my eyes tested when I have time) but I could see him when I looked behind me.  He was sitting the other side of one of those stand-up signs that you find outside shops.

Out of the wind.  He was out of the wind.  The wind was ferocious.  (The sign must have been planted deep – or anchored with weight – or he must have been anchoring it in some way, stopping it, at least, from swinging in that wind.)

I was sure it was him.

I suspect he knows only that one tune.

If you, dear reader, expect a continuation (now that he has been mentioned twice) of the appearance of this guy into this plot – forget it.  That doesn’t necessarily happen – not in real life.

I didn’t approach him.  I left him behind.

I turned my face into the wind.

It blew even more strongly – honestly, I was nearly blown off my feet – but I managed to pull myself (with superhuman effort) into a bus stop, one of those with perspex-wraparound, and held on there until I thought the worst of that blast was done.

But I was gauging the distance to the main road ahead, and the lights there – would I be safe to cross?

I trusted my own judgement, got to the lights (almost blown off-course), got over the crossing, and into a widely-paved area that had a park on one side, and a law court on the other.

 

When I was in my cave, before, and there were wild animals outside that I wanted to avoid, and skins at the back where I retreated (wanting to wrap myself in those, probably, wanting to keep warm) – does this mean that I’d already killed, and skinned, some wild animals that roamed out there?

Do I fish in the rivers?

 

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