It is hot. Early evening sunshine - actual sunshine, rather than glow - beats down on High Holborn. There is joyous chatter floating out from open pub doorways, even this close to payday. The girl in front of me is wearing a the kind of lightweight floral dress I can never find in the shops, and is flip-flopping her way nonchalantly along the street. Yet I am wearing a leather jacket and carrying an umbrella. This is how you spot people who work during the day.
Good looking young gentlemen are making eye contact with me. Is there something on my face? Is it the jacket?
About Me
- Miss Beaver
- Toast addict, master floozie, ironic nomad, procrastinator extraordinaire. If I don't write these thoughts down they pile up and envelop me totally...
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