hollow, barking, window

 There was an old apple tree in the deserted garden next door to the vegetable garden. It died and blew over in some strong winds two years ago. They sawed it up and took most of it away. But this hollow trunk survives; a good place to hide or set up home.

In Chapel Place a small dog yaps at some boys. One of the boys bark in response with the deep resonant bark of a big dog. People among whom I include myself,  look in vain for  the animal, but the boy gives the game away. He barks too often.

People sit in the window of the new  branch of Cafe Nero in The High Street. They lounge on sofas and  in arm chairs reading or chatting as though they are at home. The cafe occupies premises with a traditional shop front, which local regulations insist must be preserved.  The occupants consequently look as though they are on display. I think to myself that they must, to some extent, at least be posing,  and offer themselves, if not sale, for the admiration of passers by.