The 134 to North Finchley is a lazy bus, a sort of a tardy cat with dilatory motions. Tired and disenchanted, leaned against a litter bin, the would-be passenger awaits, and so do many others. They raise their eyes to entertain them at an old man who works on top of a cornice, right across the street. It is dark and he walks and operates carefully, but he is wearing no protection whatsoever, and the risk of a down-fall is all a possibility. As the 134 bus slothfully wriggles somewhere off sight, the bored spectators seem to have one and only one thing in mind: the man can actually fall -the old man who walks on top of a big commercial building's cornice, placing and unfolding big "on-sale" placards.
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