The first alphabet in my monthly series was inspired by a years-old memory: I used to travel regularly to a project in Sutton by train, and every time I would pass through Loughborough Junction Station my eye would be caught by an ancient advertising board, fixed to the flank wall of a building beside the tracks, for Snopake correction fluid.

The blocky three dimensional letters were so weathered by time that they were almost unintelligible, eroded to be more like pebbles or teeth.

I was always rather taken by its decayed beauty, and speculated to myself as to my chances of sneaking back one night and stealing it without getting caught: I didn’t fancy having to explain this peculiar design-crime to the investigating officers.

It may still be there, if anyone wants to steal it for me, though by now it is probably eroded beyond all recognition.