In the lime tree opposite our house a robin sits in a high branch this afternoon and sings at the top of its voice. Its song follows me all the way down Mount Sion.
As I step out of front gate I see a traffic warden coming up the road towards me from the right. I turn left and walk round the bend in the road. As I pass the entrance to Madeira Park another traffic warden is coming up Madeira Park. I turn to see that the first traffic warden has crossed Mount Sion and is walking towards the corner which the second traffic warden is approaching from the other side. Soon they will meet. They do. They stop and exchange notes. You do not often see two of these birds in this area. Though not a motorist I do not care for the breed. A few minutes later I see the two wardens disappearing out of one of the exists of The Grove. Hand in hand. Not hand in hand but I wanted to write it so I did.
Twenty years ago a poster encouraging people to become traffic wardens drew a certain amount of innocent laughter. Among the benefits were: complete training, uniform provided, work outdoors, and (the killer):
"meet and talk to different people"
A drawing showed the cheery traffic warden (reminiscent of the glazier - "with his merry glazier's song" - in Flanders and Swann's Twas On A Monday Morning That The Gasman Came To Call) smiling at someone who was revealed only by the back of his head. Many a lewd suggest was made about the nature of the conversation between the two.
When I saw the title I rather hoped it might be about cooking pears. Or maybe Trollope. However, I'm glad it wasn't as it couldn't possibly have been so amusing.
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