Production line line in the this year's Christmas card factory.
Among odd encounters at the checkout I should include today's. My purchases advance on the conveyor but two boxes of eggs on account of their fragility remain on the belt's supporting frame. I produce the" next customer sign", to mark a division on the belt, when I remember the eggs. "I thought the eggs were for me," says the man at the head of the queue behind me. He has a purple nose. "Funnily enough" he adds "I bought some eggs yesterday." What I wonder can I do with that information?
From the train the figures of two men on the roof of a distant building stand in profile against the watery sun pushing beams through streaky clouds. Dramatic figures in an urban landscape.