“You scour the coastline. You're searching for the perfect geography, the best combination of headland and bay creating the longest breaks. You extrapolate the sea bed, analyse the currents and prevailing winds, account for the time of year, the time of day, the phase of the moon. After all that you're faced with a succession of waves, picking one to try and ride. Hard work and preparation pay off but you never have all the data and couldn't synthesise it if you did. After a bad day you need to remember the part fate plays. Tell yourself it's a chaotic playfield, outwith your control, but of course when things go well it's all pride and you look around those watching, trying to discern who shares your joy and who shimmers with jealousy.

She no longer remembers his face, but when she closes her eyes she thinks of him and smiles.

There was nothing fancy about the room. White walls, a tiled floor, strip lighting. The only decoration a dignitary's portrait and some framed insignia hung on the wall. Below them sat two officials wearing sky blue double-pocketed shirts with navy epaulettes.

”Your teeth are amazing so they are” said a woman with terrible teeth. Half an hour after finishing work John was still waiting on the fifty-four. The route connected two of the worst parts of the city and those riding it frequently littered and graffitied. So First Bus deployed the shabbiest rolling stock on that route. These older buses often struggled, especially in the winter, hence the wait.