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The
day
was
perfect
for
early
summer
.
The
sun
poured
down
from
a
deep
blue
sky
set
with
tufts
of
white
woolly
clouds
.
All
of
it
was
clean
and
fresh
save
for
a
smear
made
by
a
single
column
of
greasy
smoke
coming
from
somewhere
behind
the
houses
to
the
north
.
I
stood
there
indecisively
for
a
few
minutes
.
Then
I
turned
east
,
Londonward
.
To
this
day
I
cannot
say
quite
why
.
Perhaps
it
was
an
instinct
to
seek
familiar
places
,
or
the
feeling
that
if
there
were
authority
anywhere
it
must
be
somewhere
in
that
direction
.
The
brandy
had
made
me
feel
more
hungry
than
ever
,
but
I
did
not
find
the
problem
of
feeding
as
easy
to
deal
with
as
it
should
have
been
.
And
yet
there
were
the
shops
,
untenanted
and
unguarded
,
with
food
in
the
windows
—
and
here
was
I
,
with
hunger
and
the
means
to
pay
.
Or
,
if
I
did
not
wish
to
pay
,
I
had
only
to
smash
a
window
and
take
what
I
wanted
.
Nevertheless
,
it
was
hard
to
persuade
oneself
to
do
that
.
I
was
not
yet
ready
to
admit
,
after
nearly
thirty
years
of
a
reasonably
right
-
respecting
existence
and
law
-
abiding
life
,
that
things
had
changed
in
any
fundamental
way
.
There
was
,
too
,
a
feeling
that
as
long
as
I
remained
my
normal
self
things
might
even
yet
,
in
some
inconceivable
way
,
return
to
their
normal
,
Absurd
it
undoubtedly
was
,
but
I
had
a
very
strong
sense
that
the
moment
I
should
stove
in
one
of
those
sheets
of
plate
glass
I
would
leave
the
old
order
behind
me
forever
:
I
should
become
a
looter
,
a
sacker
,
a
low
scavenger
upon
the
dead
body
of
the
system
that
had
nourished
me
.
Such
a
foolish
niceness
of
sensibility
in
a
stricken
world
!
And
yet
it
still
pleases
me
to
remember
that
civilized
usage
did
not
slide
off
me
at
once
,
and
that
for
a
time
,
at
least
,
I
wandered
along
past
displays
which
made
my
mouth
water
while
my
already
obsolete
conventions
kept
me
hungry
.
The
problem
resolved
itself
in
a
sophistical
way
after
perhaps
half
a
mile
.
A
taxi
,
after
mounting
the
sidewalk
,
had
finished
up
with
its
radiator
buried
in
a
pile
of
delicatessen
.
That
made
it
seem
different
from
doing
my
own
breaking
in
.
I
climbed
past
the
taxi
and
collected
the
makings
of
a
good
meal
.
But
even
then
something
of
the
old
standards
still
clung
:
I
conscientiously
left
a
fair
price
for
what
I
had
taken
lying
on
the
counter
.
Almost
across
the
road
there
was
a
garden
.
It
was
the
kind
that
had
once
been
the
graveyard
of
a
vanished
church
.
The
old
headstones
had
been
taken
up
and
set
back
against
the
surrounding
brick
wall
,
the
cleared
space
turfed
over
and
laid
out
with
graveled
paths
.
It
looked
pleasant
under
the
freshly
leafed
trees
,
and
to
one
of
the
seats
there
I
took
my
lunch
.
