Bunny Corcoran

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An early train in.

A woman close to me on the platform, my age, smartly dressed in black, with trolley bag in tow. She must be going away for the weekend I think. She opens the bag there’s a big law book and a load of files inside. She’s a solicitor it seems. She had that rather ‘drawn’ face which I always associate with solicitors.

Train very busy, especially for one so early. Lots of young school girls jostling around me. I turn up my mp3 player to screen them out. They’re very smarlty dressed, grey tweed. They’ll be from one of the top London schools I’m sure - City of London, St Paul’s, Westminster School, etc. Probably 11-12. That was me 20 years ago… where on earth has the time gone??

I arrive in Mayfair. I have a last minute decision to make: rather than my usual bowl of All Bran shall I treat myself (I often do on a Friday) and have a bagel and takeaway coffee. I go to my usual haunt. To my horror they’re out of peanut butter; I have Nutella instead. I raise it with the Eastern European girl behind the counter (a friendly, agreeable thing) only to be told they “no longer do peanut butter”. Sacrilege!! I won’t be going back there in a hurry.

I’m at my desk by 8.20am.