a that sort of light sort of day

It wasn't until after this pair and that following behind them had passed that I heard the voice of the gentleman on the right drifting back and thought it sounded distinctly like a former colleague; Facebook later proved useful for more than just playing Scrabble when I was able to confirm that it was him and that the reason he was accompanied by a woman with the wrong-coloured hair to be his wife was that it was his mother-in-law. The second-last time I bumped into him he was similarly accoutred to invite false assumption with a child's push-chair which turned out to have been picked up to lend to someone else rather than for him.

There was a chestnut-roasting cart on Castle Street today. Luckily it was inactive so I wasn't assaulted by the foul smells of roasting chestnuts but it's more the principle of the thing which worries me. The tree on the mound is being erected. Cherry-pickers roam George Street fastening lights to lamp-posts. Soon there will be hideous music emanating from shop doorways and being hummed by people who have walked past shop doorways recently.

In other shameful news: after two months my mother finally received her proper birthday present today and went to a Cliff Richard gig. She sent a couple of pictures but the resolution is insufficient to see if any of the audience were toting walking-frames.

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