As I walked I continued my hunt for new lights in windows or trees freshly put up. There were none that I could see. Two of our neighbours were pulling a trussed up tree from the boot as we left for an appointment in town (he was wearing remarkably tight cycling shorts). And last night, I noticed that that house of the now deceased architect on the hill opposite us has a tree lit up in their living room. The room has a floor to ceiling window in the Scandinavian-style, and the lights, like a white block of brightness, shone out in the darkening afternoon.
The morning was quiet and muted. The moon was revealed between the clouds for a short time and then was gone. I noticed some strands of red and green tinsel on the pavement as I walked the Prom.
We talked of the ‘dirty-clean’ sketch at breakfast and he suddenly remembered the name of one of the comics who performed it. I thought that they were husband and wife, apparently not. Sid Caesar, he said, and then scanning his Ipad proceeded to tell me the name of the woman who did it with him, Imogene someone. It was all black and white, he said. Yes, I know. Lovely.