Jetlag
kicked in with sheets of exhaustion sapping his energy. The plane still thrummed
in his ears. From the long coach ride to Bristol he first impressions of
England were miniature green fields, like a printed circuit board.
He was so
glad to arrive though the coach station was unremarkable. He expected red buses
and black cabs. Despite his tiredness he preferred to walk, rather than catch a
cab. He followed the signs to the university, glad to soak up the atmosphere of
the stone buildings rimmed with a dirty bloom.
His lodgings
must be around here somewhere - the buildings were ancient with old windows and
shrubby gardens and crumbling stonework. The knocker was a curved hand which pounded on
the door. There was no answer even though the sound echoed deep within the
house. He peered through the letterbox - a small landscape of cold hallway
greeted him, lit by a soft light. A row of shoes. Goddamn it, he'd have to find
somewhere else. They knew he was coming
didn't they? He made himself calm down. Tomorrow he's meet Prof Nick and the other PhD researchers, and explore this place
properly.
He found a
motel but the charges were hellish steep, so he wandered on, then spotted
something. Well, why not? He liked camping, and after all he was broke. He
lifted the large lid of the industrial sized bin, delighted to see it contained
paper and cardboard. Sleep and dreams of flying claimed him quickly.
The bin
men's early breath and exhaust fumes hang heavy in the air. Piper was having a
good morning - he worked fast, efficiently, and today the smell of the
restaurant bins was subdued with the frost. He had a good system - you had to
pull the bins out and position them behind the yellow jaws of the refuse lorry
to be picked up, then run ahead to fetch the next bins. That way they lorry
could move quickly along the road with minimum disruption to the traffic. When
the round was finished Piper and the gang headed off to the Avonmouth Depot
where the lorry disgorged it's compacted load.
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