There was a dead long-tailed tit on the step of the house where the lady said she wasn’t quite dressed yet.
The two women in fleece jackets and black-tracksuit-bottoms-with-bits-of-white-on were jogging in opposite directions along Station Road. They didn’t acknowledge one another as they passed.
The woman at the bus stop said her oven had blown up. She said she had glass in her hair and was having to use her grill instead which was doing her head in.
