A bonfire’s smoke drifted over the gardens – spacious plots, with mature trees. This is the Edwardian part of our town and the houses are generously built and separate from each other.
No human created a formula for these incense clouds, which shone in the afternoon sun. The haunting scent of this garden fire brings my senses alive with its yearning. No, I’m not moving into Nature worship but the fragrance hinted of something heavenly.
I wandered about on the grass and looked over ramshackle fences at the November-damp gardens touched by this benediction. I was alone. This blessing seemed only for me and, maybe, whoever lit the fire.
I returned to my car. Reluctantly. I mustn’t make a meal of this moment, I thought. I had the latest copy of ‘The Spectator’ with me and began to read. Then Mrs Llew appeared – I was waiting for her in the Health Centre car park. She told me her blood pressure monitor readings had been very good.
She had banished me to the car because she said that if I stayed in the surgery waiting room with her, my impatience would make her blood pressure soar.