I arrive at the café’s toilet door exactly at the same moment as the lady who had smiled at me earlier. “After you. I’m in no hurry,” she says. In I slip with a nod and a “thank you.” What a bloody mess! A filthy sink, used towels strewn over the floor, and water (I hope) puddled around the loo. She will think I’ve done all this. I clean the hand bowl, wipe the floor, and load the waste basket. Now I can leave. She’s not there: No one is waiting, which is a relief as I forgot to pee.
John Holmes is a writer who likes to write or a writer who likes to cycle.