
Some years ago (more than I care to mention) I decided to jack my job in and go and do something less boring instead. As a long-term plan, it didn't really work out, but as a few days bumming around the south of France it was fine. The long and the short of it was that I ended up back in the Smoke with a grand total of £8 to my name, and a good deal of hitchhiking experience under my belt.
The only far-sighted thing I had done before leaving my job was to keep the key to an office in which I used to work, and which was empty while awaiting new tenants. I jumped the barriers at Euston after getting on the tube somewhere where there were no entry gates (ah, those were the days...) and used some of my riches to buy fish and chips, sneaking them into the empty office under cover of the dark. The water and electricity were still on, but there were no beds, so I laid my sleeping bag out on the floor and dossed down with my supper and a can of Special Brew. I didn't sleep well, because the area was partly residential and had a strong Neighbourhood Watch presence, so I imagined every sound was the Old Bill coming to ask me some very awkward questions. Or else ghosts.

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