They’re on their way home. Parties are being held, bedroom lights stay on through the night, The Pier is open late and the Prom resounds with inebriated shouting. Exams are done, essays handed in and suitcases are being packed. They’re going home. I see them when I walk in the early hours. The other morning their were three, or was it four, girls tripping bambi-like in high heels and wearing sequinned dress cut up the thigh (no coats, naturally), they giggled as they stumbled towards Penglais Hill with one boy, unfamiliar in his suit, offering them physical, if not, moral support. I enjoy their raillery. I like that they are having fun. It’s like living a parallel life. I always wish them a safe passage home to their beds. In my head, that is. Let them be safe. Let us all be safe. Please.
