We stayed up late and waved our sticks about

I love hearing about the antics of raucous older people – those humans who have made it to their eighties, nineties and beyond. I met Klara last year in a queue at the Cadogan Hall when we were both waiting to buy £5 day tickets for a Proms chamber concert. This was her story.

Near Liverpool Street under scaffolding

What do you believe? I believe to see truth lived quietly and consistently is powerful. My father died like that. In trees we find tall truths deeper rooted than human folly. I believe in stakes that make us choose a path right, or left or denial. Denial comes back to haunt us in choice, again.

Is it worth it?

Grass grows to an unruly height. It makes the lawn untidy. Restore order, with its low rumble. First it breaks a Saturday lie-in. It leaves clippings to be swept up. Give it a few weeks, once more green blades will jiggle their blue, sun applause. — Over a year ago I was asked for my

Stuck

Lento con agitato, for 10 minutes to to to tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow too morrow to to morrow tomorrow row tomorrow morrow tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow After the stroke Aunt Edie struggled with tomorrow and words. We performed patience with wrapped chrysanthemums for twenty minutes each week. She lay tied up in tubes. — In much printed

Scherzo: Allegro before the Finale

as told to me by Klara Last week three of my octogenarian friends dropped in. Nobody drops in on me! But they did: from Brighton, Cambridgeshire and Dorset.   So, where are we going out tonight? asked my friend from Brighton. I had no idea, but we found pizza.   (I don’t know why I