One last street to cross on the ten-speed before attaining the block my exercise emporium occupies and at the corner is a Scrabble game laying scattered. A good old fashioned no-electricity use one's brains (and guile?) game, and it was a bit of Monday melancholy to see this. Or any day of the week. Was it litter? An accident? Some of the unwanted aquisitions of a theft tossed out?

On chaining my bike I noticed the main compartment of my pack was unzipped with contents okay; the smaller compartments with keys and identification were secure. But I wondered about a pair of cross trainers, size 10, and my faithful but nondescript little towel, what impression they would have made in the street and to whom.

Depends on how many points one gets for "secure".