but not much else has changed. Cracked grey paving slabs, a splash of red paint, banks of brick terraces and the background semaphore of cranes, this late-morning approach to the London pub. I meet a friend of thirty years to swap tales over the jars. Every meeting has its theme, but it was only on the train home that I mark the wisdom, the unspoken message of the day. There’ve been failings, but the quiet successes of life don’t get their fair mention. So many good times, beyond any measure.
