White Walls

It was a bit damp before coming away nice. And I had one of the laziest mornings, reading the papers in bed, sashaying out for a cup of tea or a bacon roll. I'm in training.
And later I got over to the much neglected boat for a potter about. It was warm at that point, but as I stepped out in my t-shirt I passed a young guy: trackies, cheap trainers, anorak with hood up, grey skin, emaciated. His narrow eyes just staring straight ahead.
I read of people being affected by the people dressed as WW1 soldiers who stood about at stations on the 100th anniversary of the Somme. They were like ghosts, moving amongst us.
The modern day casualties seem much more invisible. The junky carried on up the road; I turned right down to the harbour.