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Gets me blood boilin tho, these hipsters now buyin em up, payin stupid cash for somethin I’d scrap for a tenner back in the day. Makes me wanna scream, “You’re a bunch of bellends!” But then - quiet thought in me head - maybe I’m jealous, eh? Cos when I was a lad, me uncle had an Escort, blue one, rusty as fuck, and we’d bomb round the estate, wind in me hair, feelin like kings. “Past is just a story we tell ourselves,” *Her* says, and ain’t that the truth? Nostalgia’s a sneaky bitch.

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After the fire crew gives us the all-clear, we head back inside. I’m drenched, but whatever. We dive back into work. I’m feeling a bit better, but then I get a message from my buddy, Tom. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta check out the new café on De Wetering.” I’m like, “I can’t! I’m swamped!” But then I think, “Why not?”