I am too late, I am too old, I am late. Perhaps I am apprehensive and weary. We drink coffee from paper cups while we sit in a polystyrene medieaval castle. There aren't many people. The Burger King has a thatched roof and I briefly wonder about the employment prospects for thatchers in this wet, cold and foggy part of the country. I once wanted to be a thatcher, but today I am glad I am a nothing. Whatever. There is a glass roof arching over everything here anyway. And I wouldn't want to thatch a Burger King in a polystyrene castle. Motorway on such a grey day with fog and the town we drove through was dead and then a sliproad and huge signs loom out of the fog saying designer outlet village. We park in the carpark with the other cars. After walking to the designer outlet village there is music outside in the fog but it isn't very good music and even without fog it wouldn't be very good. Inside there are a lot of clothes to buy but I don't buy any because they aren't very good. There are a few people from the dead town here and they aren't buying any of the clothes either. Everyone is very subdued. This is quite nice, she says to me, holding something with sleeves up for me to look at but I can't find any words. Perhaps I am apprehensive and weary. We drink coffee from paper cups while we sit in a polystyrene medieaval castle.