Breakwater at St Leonards.As I sit for a few minutes in Calverley Ground, I hear, beneath the voices of young people with a ball in the middle distance, the persistent hiss of a lawn sprayer and watch the device, connected to a yellow, snake-like hose, throw up an arc of individual spouts, the whole slowly rising and falling like a fan to distribute water over neighbouring flower beds. The contrast between human voices and the whispering of the water is marked and suggests the presence of two distinct worlds, parallel and not quite touching.
Today I transplant basil seedlings from crowded pots where the young plants forms lawns of bubbly leaves, to larger pots, four or five to a pot. The aromatic leaves release their pungent scent to accompany me in this dignified and pleasant task.
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