A different grey. A darker, bluer grey, threatening rain. Later, it rains. In Croydon, it hails. Stratus breaks up, blue revealed, operatic cumulus. Instagram blooms with sky studies.

I walk to Canary Wharf for coffee beans. I am offered a free coffee to go with my beans. The middle aged woman who makes the offer is reprimanded by a teenage colleague. ‘It’s not our place to do that.’

I don't like his face, or his manner.

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