and left behind his lucky cricket ball. He’s off the island now, I don’t know when I’ll see him next so I keep it safe atop a cabinet, pending. His life is moving fast with many changes, mine feels more local and well-rehearsed than ever but the days flicker by. I ride out into the waterways, begin some writing, aim for a draft for the New Year. I’m in London, Cam and Bristol, I walk out into the flooded valleys when I can. Words still come but I wear my dents and damages.