The sound of sand paper on wood in the open air, and the smell of the resulting dust. A park keeper is sanding a bench in the Grove preparing it for varnish.
Someone I pass in the street has a certain look about her which is familiar to me, though I don't think I know her. It strikes me that, sometimes, you recognise, in complete strangers, features or expressions, which belong to someone you know, or used to know. There have been times when, because of such resemblances, I have been on the point of greeting someone, whom I have never seen before.
Distributing vegetables fresh from the garden to neighbours, is the nicest way of dealing with surplus.