One of the two footballs stuck up the tree in the Grove has been retrieved. But the other remains immovable on a high branch. I shall watch it with interest until, unless it is rescued, it is hidden by leaves.
Going through a drawer of my desk, I come upon a minute Hohner harmonica. It is not quite four centimeters wide, but has four holes making an octave, (you blow in and out for successive notes). I am far from musical and sing out of tune. But I have always managed to get a tune of sorts from a harmonica. I like particularly its melancholy twang. This one was given to me by the great Larry Adler, whom I met and a lunch party, a good many years ago. It came in a little cardboard box with his name printed on it. Alas, I no longer have the box. It is amazing how much sound, to my ears, reasonably tuneful, such a small instrument can produce.
The way we talk about the weather rather like the way we drink tea has a quirky ceremony about it. I pass a neighbour pushing her shopping trolley in the sunshine. " I can't believe this," she says.