I’m sat in a certain fastfood “restaurant” in Plymouth, drinking tea (I very rarely touch the food, never mind actually eat the stuff).

It was fairly quiet when I dropped by, half an hour ago, but now all the training establishments have disgorged a load of kids out onto the streets for fresh air and a fag (English for cigarette) and their daily fix of junk food.

They converge here directly, order their food and traipse upstairs, talking and giggling loudly and idiotically; oh, to be that sodding young again!

They’re all still quite carefree, being 17 years of age, and enjoying the prime of their lives, just as they should.
“Envy?” I hear you ask; well, just a little, perhaps.