I was lying on the grass reading when the old school estate’s gardener arrived pushing his lawnmower along the road. Standing up, I offered to move. Oh, you’re alright my lovely, he said, I can do that bit next week. He looks rather like one of Santa’s elves, though man-size, obviously. A warm-hearted soul, I think. After hearing him huff and puff while lugging several bags of garden waste back to his van, I suggested that he shouldn’t work too hard. Oh, I never do, he said.
