I’m at a service station on the M5, there is a woman sat outside on the kerbside.
She is holding a cardboard sign in front of her shawl-covered knees. The sign reads M50-Cardiff.
Multiple cars and lorries pass her by, likewise motorbikes and camper vans, each without a glance in her direction.
There is a long queue at Costa Coffee, yet the logjams at the alternative vendors are equally elongated, hence, I have settled for Costa, I rather enjoy their decaffeinated coffee and it is getting late.
—————————————————————— Continue reading