The short but substantial man with the unruly hair, the sun visor, T-shirt, cargo shorts – keys attached to belt – and steel toe-capped boots said “Hello, Kevin” as I passed. He was propping an old glass panelled front door up against the cellar doorway of the Working Men’s Club. I’ve got no idea how he knew my name.
Round the corner, an indiscrete dope deal was going down; a young man wearing a snapback baseball cap had double parked his hatchback next to another young man wearing a snapback baseball cap in a different hatchback. They began exchanging small packages through adjacent windows. After a couple of minutes, the double parked young-man-in-a-baseball-cap pulled up to the kerb, got out of his hatchback and got into the other man’s passenger seat where the two of them smoked a very strong smelling joint together.