Steve P.

I've had a lovely slow day at home with Helena, lazing about, eating well and managing to finish the pesky jigsaw which we have been meaning to do for weeks it seems. We stayed inside mostly with occasional trips to the garden to fill bird feeders and watch Bomble meeting up with and playing with Illium, the neighbours youngest cat.

The sun tried to burn through the cloud cover late in the afternoon, so as Woodpeckers leapt into action in the back garden, I strolled up to the cemetery. My fingers froze very quickly in the strong and freezing breeze and once again my imagination was limited.

On the way home, I saw Steve P. topping up the fuel tank on one of his two pick-up trucks, which ran out of fuel. He is used to me and my camera so wasn't too fazed by having a lens pointed at him. He has a hobby which involves him in buying, doing up and selling old army vehicles, some of which are pre-1940. His pick-ups get driven far and wide to pick up spare parts, such as gearboxes and engines. He has a big yard, with some essential cover, on an old industrial zone close to the railway line leading into Gloucester, where he disappears to regularly. I think he was on his way there when I spoke to him. But then again he may just be sensible and go inside and keep warm, like I did a minute or so later.