Walking in the rain in a waxed cotton jacket and broad brimmed hat.
In the High Street, in the rain, I pass a middle aged man and woman of similar size. They wear identical, blue jackets with pointed hoods pulled over their heads. Their faces are similar, rather porcine. They look a little out of breath. Are they brother and sister, or husband and wife, who have grown to resemble one another? As I look back to watch them walk away, I note that beneath the collars of their jackets are identical designer labels, too far away, unfortunatley to read.
A thick layer of sodden leaves make an intricate pattern of red, yellow and brown, under the turkey oak on the corner of the The Grove. Rain, which has soaked the dead leaves, has been responsible for the sudden fall rather than the wind, and the leaves have stayed put where they have fallen, which explains their density.