back from shop. cold. windy. bogans walking mean looking dogs. dudes with black hats sitting in chairs at the pub watching me walk down the street. got plain flour and milk. didnt want a bag. paid cash. street is full of anemic, beheaded pine trees and bunting proclaiming to greet the season. tinsel in the gutter. having a caro with the last of the old milk. might listen to lectures on james mason.