The bus stop is crowded this afternoon. Large men in kilts and rugby shirts wait patiently, beardedly. “Is it going to say dry?” “Aye,I think so. But there’s the cold coming.” They look west.

The couple with the dog in a coat are less patient. He is shaking his head like a cartoon character; she rests her gloved hand on his raincoated arm. “It’s getting colder, isn’t it?” “We wouldn’t be feeling it if we were on the bus.”

A robin fluttery-swoops down towards the shelter then sees the dog and banks away. The bus arrives. It does not look as though there will be room for everyone.