It is late and the misty cold has left the streets deserted. In the distance, I spot a group of winter coats and bobble hats huddled outside a pub. They are standing round a single small suitcase and attempting to roll cigarettes. I approach to explain my resolution.
'What has this done for your life?' asks the girl standing closest to me. She has a filter between her lips. 'You're nearly done', says another who is wearing horn-rimmed spectacles. The girl standing on my left asks me whose middle name I want. She has an enormous mass of red curly hair done up to the side of her head. 'I don't have one', says another, whose bobble is cream and fluffy.
The red-haired girl offers hers. 'After the Queen?' I ask. She doesn't know. I ask the purpose of the suitcase. 'Do you draw?' she says. 'Sometimes', I reply. They tell me that they have just held an inaugural life-drawing class at a local cafe. The suitcase contains their 'set'. 'It's quite elaborate', she says. They invite me to the next class in July. 'You might discover you've got a talent', says the girl whose filter is now being rolled into a cigarette.
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