The gate between the vegetable garden and the path through the flower garden, which I must take to tend my vegetables, is held open by a hook which engages with an eye in the wall. When the gate is open, as it is to day in the blustery wind, it makes a noise half way between a creak and a groan, which appeals to me because it is the sort of noise, which I sometimes make to myself when I sit down after unaccustomed exertion.
There is a display in the cutler's shop in the High Street of a range of knives, described as " hand made gentleman's pocket knives". They are sold under the brand name Taylors Eye Witness and much is made of their Sheffield steel blades. Much attention is given to the handles which are of stag horn, ram horn, buffalo horn and most expensive pearl. Where else in Tunbridge Wells would a gentleman go for his knives?