I am back at 3, Crosby Close, in Wolverhampton.
My key still opens the door.
Inside, everything is still in disarray, my old dog Snowy is there, with a younger version of himself, and a friends dog, Nebraska, is also there. I am aware that someone is squatting, but hasn’t changed the locks, they are taking good care of the dogs, even though they’re very pleased to see me after such a long time. Students who live next door come round, to find out who I am, having never seen the squatters. I invite them in, they make themselves at home, I tell them not to drink all the beer and vodka or the squatters won’t be happy.
I tell both students and dogs, that I will return in a few days, to take the dogs back.
I leave the students arguing about the validity of a huge square pound coin as a means of payment.