I’ve a full notebook. The shorthand is fine but I’ve lost my place. There’s something I’ve got to transcribe and get on the wires. It’s getting late. My last train goes soon. I quite often miss it these days and then it’s murder trying to find my way home. Taxis don’t stop. All the junctions at Camden town lead to places I don’t recognise. I’ve got to read my notes. Get them out. I think: I can’t do this job any more.
But I stopped being a staffer 20 years ago. They can’t sack me. What am I worried about? It’s about time I told them I don’t work for them any more.
One route home takes me by a winding river. The surrounding countryside is beautiful. I don’t recognise it though.
I wake up.