The man in front of me with the shaved head, the tracksuit bottoms and the shiny blouson jacket stopped to pick up a packet of sodden cigarettes from the gutter. He opened it and tried to get at the contents but they were all stuck together. As I passed him, he was tearing open the packet. I watched him making repeated attempts to light one of the cigarettes as I waited to cross the road.
Out on delivery, a man with a splint on his wrist, wearing glasses and smoking a pipe said "It's a nice spot round here."
Just around the corner I saw a massive red toadstool and I ran over a squirrel.
Ten minutes later another man who was wearing glasses and smoking a pipe (but without a splint on his wrist) said "How do'" and asked me for directions to Bradley farm.
Just around the corner I tripped over a wellington boot belonging to a man who was practising the drums with the window open and Mrs Sykes said she was glad it was a nice day and that junk mail is a bit of a pain but she supposes it keeps me in work.
I saw my first domestic Christmas tree of the year at 17a Moor Lane. It had plain white lights.