early afternoon the rain invades like pagan spears from a darkened sky even now the streetlights glow dimly through the mist across the salmon weir there’s a man in from the country selling trees and over the road someone I don’t know with a turkey across his shoulder wishes me and carries on slowly I’m up toward Shop Street through a sea of last minute bargain hunters and the desperate into a public bar where the fire is lit waiting for my pint to settle 2001 ]]>