Sit and wait
Tonight I intended walking to photograph an area of town which has an attractive a village square, but I was waylaid by various things, one of which was a bench, adorned with press cuttings of newspapers from days gone by.
I was fiddling with my tripod when a man walked up to me, he was walking his dogs, one a spaniel, the other looked like a terrier of sorts.
Both dogs were obviously old and very friendly. Rather like the owner; a face like a pickled walnut, around his neck a gold chain adorned with a dark stone, fashioned into a dog's tooth.
He'd noticed I was taking photographs he said, and proceeded to tell me that if I really wanted to see Tilburg, I should go into town, and photograh the church.
I politely said that I'd already done so, but he didn't seem to notice, and came back to the subject more than once.
He proceeded to tell me about the area in times gone by.
There, where the new houses are now, used to be baths. And on this green in front of us, washing used to hang around the clock.
And here, further up, was a cigar shop. He giggled, told me about going there when he was under age to try and blag a few cigars. He usually got lucky it seems.
I mentioned that there was a request on the internet today asking for people like him, experts on the area, to contact them. But he didn't seem to hear.
Then, an ice-cream van rolled up. I mentioned it was too cold for ice-cream. Again, he didn't seem to hear me.
"Heeeey, Peerke" he called to the driver (as an aside, he told me the ice-cream man came from Belgium, as if somehow the different nationality of the vendor made the ice-cream seem a little more exotic).
They started chatting together, I said goodbye, have a good evening. As a parting shot, he told me I must go and photograph the church in the centre of town.
I promised I would.
Further up, I found this discarded sofa on the kerb, waiting, no doubt to be picked up for recycling.
What goes around, comes around. All we can do is sit and wait.