and it goes along the back of a row of terraced houses, parallel and next to their back garden fences. You're looking at the floor mostly but every now and then glancing at the back gardens. You go past one with a washing line and inbetween the drying garments there's an oldish man with no top on standing there with his index fingers hooked over the line and he hears you about to pass his fence and shouts ALRIGHT MATE I'M JUST IMPERSONATING MY WASHING. BEEN HERE ALL DAY.