Act one, scene one

I’ve long been aware that the pinnacle of trite, poetic pretension is to reveal that you’ve been walking the rainswept streets in the dark, in an overly dramatic attempt to ‘clear your head’. It’s easy to imagine, because it’s been seen hundreds of times before in the worst TV drama series … rain-spattered headlights briefly illuminating a figure with no umbrella (or, even better, carrying an umbrella but choosing not to use it), a raincoat pulled tightly around them, looking deep in thought as they get thoroughly soaked by the unrelenting rain. It’s ridiculous, hackneyed, sentimental clap-trap of the first order, that’s what it is.

So I won’t tell you what I did earlier this evening, then.