View through a sculpture in St Giles, London.A reddish brown shape disappears into a flower bed on the other side of the lawn. Not a cat I am sure. It must be a fox. A cub I guess, and clever at hiding in a border. I go to investigate. There is no sign of it. I content myself with imaging its quick eyes peering out at me from among the lupins.
There is a heavy shower of drenching rain. I stand in the green house, listen to the drops falling on the roof, and watch the tangles in the overgrown garden next door, wilder and more mysterious than ever in the rain.
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