Publisher's Synopsis
It was one of those days when everything just goes wrong.
It started before I even got up because the alarm clock didn't go off and I overslept. So my cat Bob and I left the house far too late to catch the daily bus that took us from my flat in Tottenham, north London, to Islington, where I sold the homeless newspaper The Big Issue . We had only been on the bus for five minutes when the next breakdown happened.
Bob, as always, sat in the seat next to me and dozed with his eyes half closed. Suddenly he jerked his head up and looked around suspiciously. In the two years he'd been with me, I'd learned to take his premonitions seriously. Seconds later, the bus filled with caustic clouds of smoke. The bus driver announced in an excited voice that the journey was over here and now. He asked us passengers to get off immediately and "on the spot."
- That evening was the first indication that something very special was happening here.
