All foxes are grey in the dark

By the end of my lunch break, I hid in a quiet room in the office to make a confidential call to Ms S. The signal on her side was not great, and I doubted I would manage to gather her order. Ms S was able to brief me about her shopping list after all. Then came another challenge: she sounded like a very sociable person, so after confirming that the business district where I work is busy again after covid and revealing the origins of my accent, I politely suggested we can have a chat when I come to deliver her order. Now, I was free to get back to work.

After 5 pm, the adventure brought me to Surrey Quays shopping centre. When Ms S was dictating to me her grocery list, I was confident I could buy all the Tesco items she dreamt of at the supermarket local to my workplace... until she mentioned pillowcases. That meant a trip to the larger calibre Tesco.

Surprisingly, I had no problems navigating in the large supermarket, finding even extraordinary things like TV programmes. I called Ms S twice from Tesco. First, as her interior designer, I consulted the pillowcases' style (we reached a consensus with her opting for a light colour and me suggesting a subtle floral pattern on a white background). My second call was to let her know I was about to leave the store and that it would take me 25 minutes to walk to her home. Yes, it was a walking mission with extra weights made of my work stuff and my own groceries - a little bit of resistance training, oh yeah!

The nicely lit alleyways, dark woods and water reflecting the lights made a picturesque night landscape but I got lost in the Rotherhithe labyrinth. Suddenly, a Red Fox with golden eyes ran close by me. There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did I think it so very much out of the way to hear the Fox say to itself, 'Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when I thought it over afterwards, it occurred to me that I ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Fox actually took a smartphone out of its pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, I started to my feet, for it flashed across my mind that I had never before seen a fox with pockets in its fur, or a phone to take out of them, and burning with curiosity, I ran across the woods after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large fox–hole under the hedge. I went around that hedge and found myself in front of Ms S's house!

I dropped the groceries, and the grateful Ms S said thank you. We did chat for a while but not about accents, busy business districts or foxes with mobile phones.