at the doctors. Rush to find some clean clothes (normally reserved for a Saturday). Pop some ‘shower in a can’ on (normally reserved for weddings and funerals), sink some porridge and coffee and prepare for the impending patronising, academic-minus-people-skills offering no solution. There’s never anywhere to park due to the locals all being retired lorry drivers or oil tanker captains, I presume, from their liberal, selfish, random sprinkling of dull cars, so it doesn’t take much of an excuse to pop out a bike that I can park
