I needed to be somewhere I could think. I took some bread because all last week as I waited for our bus the ducks came venturing over the ice to peck at my feet. I guess when the canal’s frozen they don’t eat. They went crazy at the sight of bread. I only had four slices (all that was left in the bread bin) and they gobbled it up in no time. Then they stood there, glaring at me. It was kind of awkward, like they were weighing up my edibility. At 15:15 I heard mumblings from above. I recognised the voices: Ian and Goose. Their feet were hanging over the mouth of the bridge. Ian wears these black trainers with luminous shoelaces and they glowed like green dangling worms. The ducks waddled out, staring up at them. I guess they thought they were food. Ian was talking but I couldn’t hear what about. The usual stuff, probably. Girls. Parties. At one point he flicked a cigarette butt down onto the ice and the ducks went crazy again, swarming and pecking to the squeals of Goose’s high-pitched laughter.
