Dunelm

We're so close to Dunelm Food stores that in the time it takes to walk from door to door you couldn't even smoke a whole cigarette. Then you have a choice. Stamp it out and enter. Stand outside and smoke it, bathed in the bright yellow convenience store light. Or cross the road and walk out onto Kingsgate Bridge, and lean on the rough concrete wall watching the river ripple with the Prince Bishop Centre's lights, and admiring the way the great arches of Elvet Bridge are mirrored in the water (numbered 1 and 2), and glancing left towards the cathedral that looms like a great ghost above black trees. There you can smoke to the sound of black water running far below, you can watch the smoke rise from your lips, set a-glow by the white halogen lights that line the bridge. You can admire the red ember's slow descent towards the butt and see, suddenly in the distance, a similar red light, floating down the river, and wonder what it is. You'll never know. You'll just stamp out the butt and head back to Dunelm for your Rubicon and Kingsmill or whatever it is you were going to buy. And your fingers will be cold, the cold river air will have chilled you to the bone, but the cold will feel like a kind of peace that has sunk deep down into your soul and you won't care about the pint of milk you forgot or the Ritter Sport you bought instead.