Evaporating droplets of water bounced their way into steam and the kettle with a sharp flick severed the connection of power.

Eyes unfocused, blank, vacant, I poured the waterfall of hot liquid over the granuals of cheap instant coffee.

The tiles were broken behind the cooker, a once ideal realism of country life had been stolen with a headless farmer and crippled dog.

Turning for the milk, a glimse of a shadow heralded the arrival of the daily junk mail, all of which I kept until the end of each month to post through the door of my managers house.