Good Grief 344

Hugely tired at the moment although find it hard to distinguish if it's any different to usual. The driving, the weather, digging the car out this morning, the work ... take your pick.

I love this light. It was P's and like so many things now I've managed to break it, or at least crack it, but it's still usable and, of course, there's always this.

This evening as I headed in from work I passed my old neighbour who lives up the lane now. He was gritting his path and we talked about the weather. I told him the fence he put in years ago was finally bought down in the recent storm. He told me he remembered making repairs on it before and had knocked to ask permission to do the work from our side. I was at work but he said P had been only too pleased for him to do it.

Funny how these anecdotes come out the blue and catch me out. No one here now would remember him and I am surrounded by holiday cottages. To have this memory come from the someone else came as a surprise. It has become such a private world that no-one now participates in. It suddenly took life and shape in this dark January night air as words exchanged from one to another. It took form and reality in the dark space between us.