Wandsworth Common

Gerald Ralphs had tramped the roads of England for the best part of fifteen years — not an ordinary vagrant. While most of his kind wandered aimlessly, Gerald always had a destination in mind: perhaps Winterbourne, near Bristol, where he was always sure of a welcoming meal; or Newbury, Berkshire, where he was equally well known; or Brighton, or Woodhouse in Derbyshire. Always he carried his razor, soap, toothpaste, and toothbrush; his hair was neatly combed and his shoes buffed to a shine. He rarely spoke to anyone, gave away no details of his past life, and was the complete loner.