Old people in supermarkets and other public places sometimes have a diffident look about them as though they are on parole and are being watched for good behaviour. A thought prompted by couple of oldies who waver in the check-out queue as though not certain of their place in such a purposeful world I do not include myself in this category. Yet.
The climbing French beans in the garden are on the edge of a glut. The blue skinned variety are disguised by shadows which mimic their shape when you go to pick them ; the plump green one by their colour which is the same as the leaves and stems among which they hang.