From the train, we catch sight of sheep, snow-coloured in the mist, a fox loping across an otherwise empty field and a heron flapping lazily against the pale sky.
In Sevenoaks, where the wait for the bus, expected at hourly intervals, its arrival unpredictable, can be painful, we say, "let's try for the bus" And when we turn the corner, there it is standing by the stop.
Two observations on Christmas cards from old friends received this morning reflect the ageing process. The first:
" As my house is in the centre of the medieval grid, and within a few minutes, I have access to the cinema, doctor, chemist, theatre, market, cathedral, brewery and funeral director, all my needs are catered for."
The second:
"As people age, they get a bit reptilian, may be with fewer reflexes, the beady eye, the single quest for a sandy gulch or a sunny rock."
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