I’m walking to the station in driving rain, under the protection of a £12 umbrella I bought at a newsagent the day before – during a previous rainstorm – which is already turning up on one side. My head is down, and I do not immediately see the young man approaching from the other direction, arms full, who stops in my path.
“D’ya wanna buy one?” he says, holding out one of three bottles of white wine he has clearly just shoplifted.
