Architects of Pernicious Loopholes,

Living in the rarefied surroundings of academia, I can be protected from the world’s ills for a large proportion of the time but the symptoms of the recession are creeping closer to home as a family member stands to lose their job.

A friend who moved away years ago visited me recently, he said that he’ll always be drawn back to the Kingdom of Fife. If such a feeling exists within me, it is for rivers, the sea and the city of Embra. I may never have lived there but I was educated there and even if it is only for a shopping trip, the city sequesters me. The city itself may not be wholly responsible; the train journey probably holds its own pleasures. Unseated MSP Christine May was on the train, hopefully, we will put her back in Holyrood.

To cleanse myself of the long shifts I had been working and also to buy some new footwear, I decided to go back to what I know, that group, Embarrass, suggested such a move. Corporal Jones also suggested that I didn’t panic, so I didn’t.

There, on Princes Street, the extent of the recession and the public’s fears struck me. There was no one else to strike, except the usual plague of chuggers. I am as generous as the next person to fundraisers but I, like most people are, am uncomfortable with signing my life away so I ran, as I was chased. The shops were empty, of course, it was a week day but that’s when I usually go shopping thus I make the comparison with other week days. The shops appeared over-staffed which surprised me too. I wondered what would happen to all these clothes if they were not bought, I wondered what would happen to fashion if the lack of sales caused it to never change. The only store that seemed busy was Marks & Spencers, it was filled with the more elderly sort and perhaps those, like myself, who just could not find the way out.

I would’ve liked to have bought a few jerseys as it is still cold but Spring/Summer 09 is what the shops are selling. There’s a speciality shop for tall people just off Princes Street, I may have to open my own speciality shop – for people of zero per cent body fat who are always cold. My own fashion tastes have changed dramatically over the last few years and the major change is in size, I’ve gone from being a Large to being a Medium and I feel out of sorts when I try to wear one of my archive jumpers. No jerseys were found and my clothes haul read a pair of slim trousers, two t-shirts, a pair of canvas plimsoll-type shoes and two pairs of socks.

I’ve taken to looking in charity shops for books recently, as an extension of this trait, I visited an independent bookstore. Unfortunately, I did not enjoy my visit to this bookstore. The sitcom, Black Books, is quite realistic as I found out. I was only just in the door when I was set upon by the owner, I was not allowed to browse, I was to state my intentions immediately such that I could be processed and dispatched swiftly. I told him what I wanted, he said he showed me the two Kurt Vonnegut books, I said that I’d take one of them. I think then I really angered him by asking if debit cards were accepted, I said I’d go to a cashpoint and return then he charged me more than I would expect to pay for a book in its condition. I should have haggled but I didn’t and I kept the economy moving.

There are many CDs that I’d like to buy but the chance of an early train home kept me from visiting Fopp and I travelled back to Kirkcaldy in carriage devoid of normal life, there was only myself and another, a rotund humanoid that boasted plugs, from which techno music emanated, in its barren head, golden spectacles which suggested a conceited superiority and a foreboding growl which hinted that at any moment I could be eaten and the world would be better for it.