A reel of yellow cable squeaks as a workman energetically unwinds it and pushes it through a small manhole into which it mysteriously disappears. A small child gazes in wonderment at the disappearing cable, as I do, until I realize where it is going. At an open manhole cover further along, another workman is hauling and guiding the cable through a duct beneath the pavement, where so much is going on that is hidden from us.
In the vegetable garden a low, misty sun casts a melancholy light on the fading leaves of beans and large, sear leaves of the exhausted courgette plants. There are cobwebs among the last nasturtiums and expiring roses. A few beans with swollen pods remain for me to pick. A pleasing smell of decay emerges from the compost heap, where decay is more welcome than elsewhere.