Another morning of frost underfoot and ice on the air. As you crossed the park the sun came blazing, huge and raw, through the trees.
Sequestered all day communicating by mobile, landline and email. Sandwiches at the desk for lunch. Striding off several times to fill your tannin-stained mug with hot coffee, 55p a pop.
On night air
a smell of tobacco smoke
trails the dog-walker
Don Cropper says... 