I’m passing through some woods with a backpack. A lot of schoolchildren like to camp here with their friends and it’s my job to make sure that they’re OK. I call into a small tent with interconnecting entrance tunnels and a living quarters in the centre. A young girl is in the centre setting up her sleeping quarters. I ask if she’s OK as I crawl through. She just stares at me. I presume there’s another child in the wood gathering fuel and water. I wonder what’s going through her mind, ‘Who is this person and what right does he have to climb through the tent?’ I scramble out and head to the outside of the woods where my bike awaits. I decide to cycle uphill to the next town, which takes me through a set of roadworks. I overtake queuing traffic on the hill, aware, that they’ll have to overtake me at the red light. I reach the lights and I realise that I’m blocking the driver’s view of the lights so I edge forward past them. Then, when they do turn green, I struggle to pull off up the hill. Once I’ve exited the roadworks, I realise that I’ve left my backpack at the edge of the woods where I collected my bike.
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