Dundee is colder that I expected, always like this in winter – I forgot the smell of it, like the inside of a hairdryer, mixed with concrete and ozone. I wander around the city centre, Perth Road and back again, buy magazines that I don’t have time to read, sample-sized bottles of conditioner and tanning lotion which I will never use, nail files, soap, olives, crackers, strawberries. I try to do homework in the bathtub, crossed legged in orange laced knickers and the pink t-shirt on which you gave me, lay on the big white hotel bed with the heat on.

At ten PM, I drink cava from plastic hotel cups. I’m waiting. This morning: Glasgow, Merchant City, coffee, work, promote, sell, Dundee. Tomorrow: Dundee, work, Glasgow or Edinburgh, home to the chaos and noise. Home to study, to read.

Everything scrutinised. But tonight I am waiting. Tonight I’ll drink cava until I can’t feel my tongue.


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