Taking off 
An orange cement mixer 
Spinning in Spring 

Returning from a visit to the hospital I cycled slowly back home through Dulwich Village which is lovely and rather genteel. Nice houses and gardens, expansive playing fields, and no tube or station. On a balmy school afternoon it’s a bit like Adlestrop … you remember Adlestrop! Very English and you can hear the birds singing. There’s a road on the way to Tulse Hill which has a line of white semi detached houses with wicker fences and climbing roses. And even though they must cost a pretty penny, the cars parked in their driveways are modest if not scruffy.

Box, bollard and bag 
Badly dressed friends 
At the spring ball 

I dipped down a short crescent and it was as English as strawberries and cream. A big old man, bare chested and working in his garden looked up and we bade each other a good afternoon. I wondered if he had thoughts about this nosey man on a bike but felt our brief meeting had been as clear and pure as the air on this vIrginal spring day. Oh what a joy to sneak off from work and go slowly about on a day when the blossom hangs heavy on the trees, mothers and children go out to play and the leaf buds spray a delicate haze of green on the trunks and branches of the mighty oak and the slender silver birch.

Above every hedge
And slatted wooden fence
Green shoots and blue sky

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