I was walking past the newsagent’s shop when somebody threw a slimy mango stone out of a window on the first floor. It landed where I was just about to step. I adjusted my stride to the left to avoid it but the stone bounced and my foot came down right on top of it. I slid but managed to retain my balance.
In a driveway lined with statues – a spaniel with big eyes holding a gas lamp in its mouth, an outsized squirrel with big eyes holding an acorn, a moonying gnome etc – a folded-in-half wellington boot was pinned under the nearside front wheel of the TVR Chimaera.
The builder with the swagger and the four foot spirit level called me ‘boss’ and told me his dog doesn’t like postmen. I approached the front door of the house he was working on and the dog started barking threateningly, its hair on end. The builder ignored the situation and climbed some scaffolding singing Like To Get To Know You Well by Howard Jones. Eventually, the owner of the house came out and collected his mail from me.
An old man with no teeth was wheeling a broken swivel chair out to his bins. “Nothing lasts for ever!” he said.