I am Tim Henman, playing tennis at the Olympics in Sydney. Today, I am playing in the mixed doubles with somebody, of whom I have never heard. The game starts at three o'clock, and it's ten minutes to three, so I go down to the court. I cannot recognise my partner, and there are at least six people hitting balls back and forth over my head. I suddenly realise that I am not wearing my official Team GB outfit. I run back to the Olympic village, and into the shop. After much disagreement over price, I discover that they only have an extra-small shirt, which is no use. I have to then run to my apartment, where I must drag my other shirt out of the wash. As soon as I think that all is okay, I realise that I cannot find my racket, so I search high and low for it. It is now half past three, but I am reliably informed that my partner is putting on a good show, and we are still in the match.
I am in Muirend Safeway, and I have come to complain about a bad can of beans. I discover a lift at the back of the shop, and step in. It goes down, firstly to a mezzanine gallery, at which two people get in, and which overlooks a vast warehouse. The lift goes down once more, and I am in the head office of Safeway. The Managing Director is wearing a smoking jacket, and reclining on a huge, king-size-or-more bed. On the mahogany-panelled walls, there are glass cabinets, containing all manner of supermarket goods, such as Coco Pops. I make my complaint, he agrees with me, and offers a full refund.
It is the end of another school day, and my friend and I and climbing up the stairs to Williamwood station. As ever, the climb over the railway line is extremely tiring. When we re3ach the top of the bridge, I am surprised to see that the walkway has disintegrated, and becoming some scaffolding, with some loose boards arranged at random intervals. My friend braves the danger, holds on to a pole, and manages to get across. I am slightly less eager to cross, but realise that my passage home depends on it. I hear a throng of people coming up the stairs behind me, so I run at full speed across the shaking boards, and down to the safety of the platform. From my usual vantage point, I stare back at the bridge, which looks as solid as normal. To my horror, I then see somebody drop through it.