The road leading home
And I appreciated the chance, even as it was embarrassing to hear how I got stoned by accident - at the time, none of the women I was smoking with knew how to tell the (relatively) senior person from Head Office that the shisha that night was "special", so none of them did. I wondered afterwards why I spent two hours in a paranoid funk writing out all the numbers from my mobile phone longhand. And then washed my hair several times and ate my emergency stash of Bombay Mix. But now I know.
I wandered home via Tescopolis, to pick up a pint of milk. In front of me in the queue was a young woman buying a bottle of pink fizz. They have a sign up saying that you will be asked for ID if you look under 25 (this number seems to go up every week) and sure enough, she was carded by the (also young, also female) cashier, who said 'by the way, you forgot your zip'. She felt for her flies, which were down. I felt for mine, which weren't, but the cashier clocked me doing it, so they might as well have been.
Behind me, a someone held up a bag of Tesco Value frozen vegetables. 'Are these any good?' she asked me. 'I'm not really a vegetable person'. I don't know, I said. I mean, I *am* a vegetable person, but I don't buy that kind. 'Right,' she said, and laid them aside.
On the way home, I passed two students flyposting for the Jesus Festival.
All these young women, out on their own late at night, doing things and making decisions. It's like we live in a free country or something.