Layers of graffiti, stickers and other detritus have accumulated on the back of this telephone kiosk near the station. I don't know if it still contains a telephone but it provides an interesting canvas for fortuitous art.
An example of begging the question on Radio 4 a few minutes ago. It occurs in a piece of comedy dialogue, which goes something like this:
Scene: a bookshop.
Young woman customer: Have you a copy of Virginia Woolf's A Room with a View."
Assistant: Who are they?
Young woman: You haven't heard of Virginia Woolf! And this is a bookshop. Not a fishmonger's."
Assistant: I hate fish.
A new neighbour is rooting up roses in her front garden. She ranges the gnarled roots on the wall. Anyone can have those for sculptures," she says. They have been much admired by passers-by as long as I can remember. But who am I to complain? She digs away. "I've planted a damson tree instead. I don't mind roses, but I hate growing them."