Three men were playing on the roundabout in the children's playground at 6am. The one with the black bandana tied around his head was pushing it round as fast as he could and repeatedly shouting "Oh baby! You're gonna die!"
A man in military uniform was carrying a carriage clock across Church Street.
At the newsagent, Christine was on the till. She told me the new owner is applying for an off-license. "I don't want to be in here on my own at 10 o' clock at night with all the skanks coming in. It's a local newsagent for goodness sake; he thinks he's bloody Tescos"
A man in sportswear was watching me deliver a parcel. He was leaning on a broken fence with a bottle of Ribena in one hand and his bollocks in the other.
A woman was walking past the pink teddy bear in the road on her way up to Dead Man's Hole. She was wearing a pale grey fleece jacket, black ski-pants and was carrying a shopping bag that was so big she had to hold it with her arm bent at he elbow so it didn't drag along the floor. She was talking on a phone: "Joan has been up with some boxes and one looked like it might have been a cat basket."
I found a four leaf clover in Dead Man's Hole.
Adam Ant's tour bus was parked outside Holmfirth Post Office.
Things people said to me today when I handed them their post (not including 'thankyou' or variations thereof – which is what nearly everyone says):
"Is that it? That's a poor do."
"That's not too bad."
"Parcel? Oh yes, that's David's tea actually – birdseed."
"You haven't been knocking long have you? I was asleep."
"Oh my God!"