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?