At this time which it is here there's a whimsiness in the wind which caresses the chimney pots, a, will you laugh if I tickle your throat kind of playfulness, the chimney pots carry on smoking because the National Health Service can't afford to educate anyone past the age of Watford, I'm at that age which used to be known as old age but these days it's only chapter fifteen in the book of fair play.

I have coffee for company but that'll run out and why not, the gas did, the electricity did even the cat did when I left the door open.

The clock is ticking, I think it's probably on a longer fuse than I am and that's good too.