We followed him outside. He shook the can, laid Mr Bulljaw against the wall and sprayed. A few minutes later there seven bull-men. Then he said, ‘Get all the cans. Let’s see what we can do.’

You’re so small you can’t see above the clothes rack, so you wander, run, hide in women’s skirts, parkas, shirts. Someone’s looking for you, but you feel safe: your legs are poles, feet, wheels, and it’s only a matter of time. So you run again, stopping to check yourself in the mirror, back into the bushes, deep into the darkness. Clem! It’s safe. So you emerge, walking in circles, dipping into discount boxes.

I sat up, looked out and saw people waiting for covers, and Mr Glasson drifting from car to car. In, out, making small talk, measuring seats.

‘Come, let’s drink it while we have breath, for there’s no drinking after death …’

Ernie making his way along Lanark II. Stopping to rest on fences, cough, fart, wander in and out of his own jungle.

‘Down among the dead men …’

Resting on our tube steel, lighting up, pulling on Fi-Fi’s lead so she wouldn’t get any ideas. ‘He makes a nice cover, missus. You’ll be happy.’

And the missus just smiled at him.

‘He did mine a coupla years back, eh, Ron?’

He just continued measuring.

‘Specially on a hot day,’ Ernie said. ‘Y’ don’t want to burn yer legs. Wool allows your skin to breathe, eh, Ron?’

He’d had enough. ‘Ernie, Miss Stephens doesn’t want that smoke in her car.’

‘Sorry, missus.’ And he stubbed it on the fence. ‘Wash ’em every coupla years, they’ll last. Good quality, eh, Ron? Where do they come from?’

‘Sheep.’

‘I know that, but what sorta sheep?’

‘Merino.’

‘Yes, best sort. Spanish. Fought a civil war over sheep … Down among the dead men let him lie!’

‘You reckon you should get home?’ Ron asked.

‘What’s the rush? Then you got the missus on at yer. Yours go on at yer, Ron?’

‘No.’

‘You watch that, Miss Stephens. Nice new seat covers, you don’t want some drunken old bastard …’

It was unusual to see him this gone, this early. The Windsor only opened at ten. I knew he could get tanked in under an hour, but not in perfect dog-walking weather. Fi-Fi pulled on her lead, but he held her back. ‘While the lads of the village slept.’ Burped. ‘You run your hands through that wool, missus. Merino. Spanish Civil War. Fascism. And it was all a prelude to Hitler. The communists were against Franco … you heard of Franco?’

‘Ernie!’ Ron said. ‘What are you goin’ on about?’

‘It’s a public place, isn’t it? I’m entitled to sit on this fence. Aren’t I, Clem?’

I had to stop myself.

‘Clem?’

The girl Stephens was sitting on the bonnet, grinning.

‘You give a guarantee on those, Ron?’

‘You’re an embarrassment to the street, Ernie.’

‘At least I talk to my neighbours.’