I found a little bag of blue crystals on the bus.

There was no one else but I stood. It was a single decker.

Before I moved to the city I didn’t know there were double decker buses. I thought buses were big and long and boxy but short. Like battenbergs. Granddad used to give me battenberg. And they were usually empty, and drove fast down country roads. Just for me.

And then I moved to the city and all the buses were shiny and curvy with big windows that snaked all round them, and had adverts for takeaways on the side. And they were tall, almost made so that the city folk had a ready-made platform from which to look down on people. And the drugs they took, while they were eating their takeaways, and looking down at the top of out heads, were white.

I picked up the little bag and slid it into my pocket.

Village hall. Battenberg. Triangular sandwiches with egg and cress.