Sitting in my front window, like some latter day Miss Matty from Cranford - although, being latter day, rather than fiddling around trying to impress my neighbours with the numbers of candles I can afford to light, I am actually playing with my lap top while half watching the news - I am disturbed by the sound of drug addicts bellowing at each other on their way up to get their daily methadone.
But, hang on, it's quarter past seven in the evening. The chemist is closed. And, on cue, the bellowers appear in my field of vision, and they turn out to be 'young people', a boy on a bike and a boy and a girl with a backpack on the pavement.
But they sounded exactly like the morning chorus drug addicts. My brilliant conclusion - that the drug addicts are actually just stuck in permanent arrested development. No wonder they seek escape in oblivion. I shudder at the thought of being trapped forever as my silly teenage self.
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