I leaned over to claim the five pence from the kerb, examining both sides respectively to check it was real. It was rare to find money at school, a shiny piece of treasure that had been overlooked, quite remarkably, by a pilgrimage of eagle eyed teenagers; on their way out of the school gates for lunch. We weren’t strictly permitted to leave the premises, but now we were year nines, the teachers seemed to turn a blind eye to the few groups of 14-somethings playing truant every day.
One morning last week I made my usual trundle down the stairs, wearing my pyjama substitutes (an old painting top and some oversized joggers), filled the percolator from the boiling water tap, spooned in my favourite blend of subscription filter coffee and walked to the bathroom. As I washed my hands I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror only to be genuinely surprised by my appearance.
Was that really me?