Pat Travers opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. God it was bright. He turned his head and looked at the alarm clock. s**t! He must have gone back to sleep. If he wasn’t out the door in twenty minutes he’d miss the bus.
Pat hated being late for work. He leapt out of bed and set a record for the four-minute shower but couldn’t maintain his momentum, since he’d forgotten to iron a shirt before going to bed and there was no way he was going to work in a wrinkled shirt.
The bus was at the end of the street, turning onto the main road, a good hundred metres down from the bus stop in front of his house, when he finally made it to the front door. It would be another fifteen minutes before the next one arrived. He went back inside and wolfed down a pot of strawberry yoghurt for bre
