29 April 2012
It's so cold as you walk down the street, the rain pounding on your body almost as if it is trying to push you to the floor. On your face there is no space that is not covered in water, your hair is like reeds in the water, entwining themselves round your nose and mouth. Your hands are so cold that they hurt, with every movement a surge of pain runs up your arm. Your jeans are soaked through and stick to your legs like glue, they are numb from the cold and wet and so red as they try to bring themselves back to life. Everything is heavy and the wind try's to stop you from walking any further on your mission. Finally the lead weight which is your trolley follows close behind tripping you up every time you let your guard down. This is what I do every day, this is a British paper round.
British Paper round • Opuss № I