We went down to Kent for my mother's birthday. She's 86. Autumn is coming on faster down there and my mother's wonderful chestnut tree is already dropping conkers. I picked some up and put them on the kitchen table but the lovely mahogany shine was gone by morning. On the evening after her birthday dinner I went out into the front yard to look at the stars and as soon as I stepped out of the lamplight I was afraid.
Of the size of the night? Not so much.
Of things hiding in the bushes? Yes. As if I were living in the paleolithic and there were bears around.
There was a pinkish streak to the north over London. I didn't count the planes but there were a lot of them- blinking lights and steady lights- going this way, that way, high up, low down.