The clock above Tunbridge Wells station is a landmark you tend to take for granted, but today I see it for the first time face to face. On the top floor of Hoopers department store, they have left a fire door open for the sake of cool air, and across the roof of the building there at eye level is the familar clock from an unfamiliar angle.
A woman appears to be talking to herself as she walks towards me in Mount Pleasant. As she gets closer I realize she is on the phone. A mouthpiece must be somewhere on her person. A few years ago, there would have been no question that she was insane.
In the Grove, I watch a wood pigeon pick up a twig of at least its own length, and fly awkwardly to a tree where it dissappears in the direction of what must be a building site.