He stepped from The Tube and walked through the station. It was still a sun-filled early evening when he emerged onto the street. He carried a cream shopper bag over his shoulder with meat-free burgers and halloumi nestled together inside.
He thought, more than anything in the world, that there was nothing worse than holes.
The last straw came when he was walking down the street one day in London. He was looking at how Tower Bridge stood majestic against the pure blue spring sky, its two sibling towers tall above The Thames, and then the next minute his knee hit the pavement and his hand darted out in front of him to take the strain, and he was staring at the stone path so close to his face it took him a moment to fathom what had just happened.