Death of My Aunt

C.H.B. (Clifford Henry Benn) Kitchin  (1895-1967)Until half-past six, the fifteenth of June was much the same as many other Fridays. Business was slack, and my work did not fill the hours which I had to spend in the office. At six o’clock I took my grimy hat from its peg, and after the innumerable “good-nights” which commercial etiquette seems to demand walked down Throgmorton Street without enthusiasm on my way to the tube. A few dispirited jobbers still lingered in the “street.” The afternoon was wet, and rather cold.