The laughter was so loud, I stopped and looked over the wall. Four white haired men were wedged into a bench telling stories. Maybe they did this every day.

They would pause occasionally and watch the sea.

Retirement seemed to be an anticipation of heaven.

Wandering along near dark, I met a strange bloke

Colours and shades and textures make the mundane special

I thought Fionn mac Cumhaill might be able to play backgammon with dice the size of those on a railway station poster.

The bridge at Sydney Parade station always has a vaguely sinister feel!

Prison courtyard? No, it's the front garden through the laundry window.

The laundry used to be the kitchen - there must have been some valuable stuff in the larder!

If we're depending on the angels in our struggle against darkness and evil, I kind of hope that they are more robust than the wimpish figures who appear in the stained glass windows!

It's Monday, 2nd October - this is the last rose of summer.