My routines usually dictate that the most opportune time to
clear the road grids up the lane coincides with the school run. It’s very
handy, actually, because it means I get to wave to lots of young mothers. A few
of them even wave back. (I expect the others are organising a petition to have
me confined to the church bell tower, having first established that none of
their august company is called Esmeralda.) And if Jupiter happens to be in the
constellation of Sagittarius, there’s even a good chance that I will see a hand
wave in the Lady B’s car. Whether she’s waving at me or somebody else I have no
way of knowing, of course, but I can always pretend.
And a horse kept blowing warm air into my right ear from his nostril today. That’s never happened before. The person sitting on his back suggested that he probably likes me. Pity the same can’t be said about the young mothers on the school run.
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