Monday 14 May 2012
After doing some shopping, I go into the centre of Peakville, call at Richter Henker LLP, and then have lunch at the Moon Under Water.
Near the town hall, on the way to Richter Henker, I briefly follow a solidly-built young man who must be seven foot tall. He is smoking a cigarette.
When I place my order at the pub, I can see through into the bar at the far side. Another tall man, much shorter than the one I saw near the town hall, is standing at that bar. His face is slightly fleshy, his hair is brown, he is solidly-built but round-shouldered, aged 30-plus, and he looks like the kind of person you might enjoy having a joke and a drink with, but would never want to do any kind of business with. He is in the company of two other men. I’m sure I have seen him somewhere else, but I cannot remember where.
On my way back, walking up a street parallel to the one where Richter Henker are based, I see a policewoman make an exit from an office. Her hair is dark blonde, tied up at the back. She looks like a thug. I wouldn’t trust my freedom in her hands. For a few moments I walk in the same direction as her, ten yards behind her; then she heads into one of the main shopping-streets and I continue along Tabernacle Terrace.
[Original posting 14 May 2013]