We sit outside of the Compasses with a pint of bitter and some cheese on toast after a good walk on this bright, crisp morning.
Seagulls wheel in a continuing circle over a pond at the end of the artificial lake in Dunorlan Park. I point my camera towards the vortex of flapping wings. I have no confidence in the results: the birds themselves are enough for the moment.
From a distance, I watch a neighbour walk across the Grove. He look neither to left nor right. He had no eyes for the groups of people under trees or on the paths ahead of him. Nor does he appear to see the play of sun on the grass and trees. I wonder what he sees inside his head.