I followed a coach up Bradford Road. The livery on the back said "Stotts ...taking people to places".
"At work, there has been a bag of Silver Spoon Granulated Sugar cable-tied to a ceiling joist for at least five years. No one remembers how it got there.
I'd just delivered the post to the Druid and the Witch of the End of Time's house when I overheard a Jehovah's Witness in a long taupe tassled skirt and an anorak say "...the most embarrassing thing is when you're in a public space and you can't stop laughing..."
On the radio Barbara Dickson said she decided she was "gonna show 'em" because she failed her 11+ exam, so I turned it over to a channel where the presenter was introducing a quiz called Popmaster. The contestant was a stuntwoman who said she once gave up the job for a year but missed the adrenalin rush too much. The presenter said this was "fascinating" so I turned it over again. This time the presenter said "Now it's time for rock, shop and recover on The Pulse of West Yorkshire; your chance to win tickets to see Kylie live in concert..." I turned it off.
At the sheet metal engineers, I handed a parcel to a large man with a greasy face and blue overalls. I asked him his name but didn't catch his reply.
“Sorry, what was that?” I said.
“What?” I said.
“Pardon. P.A.R.D.O.N” he said. “Mr Pardon”.
The weather brightened as I arrived at the Golf Club. The pheasants were making a lot of noise in the undergrowth and the greenkeeper had parked up his wheelbarrow and rake to scratch his back on a fence post. Outside the club house, a man in a suit strode across the car park carrying a large crystal chandelier and a grey haired man wearing and a v-neck sweater waved to me as he drove past in a cream and black Morgan.