At varying intervals in the day, Jim escapes the office and walks in the park with its museum of mostly living trees that attract eccentrics who maybe need a place to feel free of scrutiny.
Or perhaps they’re just plain strange and have no idea what they want.
Some, usually young men with no hair, wear vests to display their tattooed biceps whatever the weather and find shady Keatsian bowers where they can get smashed on Lidl lager and leap out like pantomime ghouls on especially nervous eccentrics.
The shock of some insightful observation squawked by a guffawing skinhead sage will further setback any hope that the nervous wreck will ever cope with the city streets again.
Probably the strangest sight is that of a woman who walks like a monk deep in meditation and always wears a purple onesie that looks like a purple banana peel. Even the Lidl lager poet/philosophers think twice before pouncing on a purple banana lost in prayer.
Whenever Jim takes these not entirely pleasurable walks to get away from the almost entirely miserable office the same curious event always happens…