As I sit waiting for my stop on the Tube, a not-so-faint smell of alcohol and smoke fills the carriage.
The woman across from me faceplants onto the chair across from her, as her neighbour belches out a drunken moan.
It’s 8AM, on new years morning.
I’m feeling fresh and ready for the challenge ahead. I’ve been working towards this day for some time, and now the opportunity has finally presented itself. Time to strike
Today is the day I see waxwings in some non-descript neighbourhood in London, because some old couple saw them in their garden a few days prior and word got out.
And so begins the twitch.
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