Memories are still fresh of that bench that I sat upon beside a canal. Below me a paddle cycle splashed quietly by and the reek of cannabis was thick in the late afternoon sunlight; scooters buzzed busily over the nearby bridge and rattling cyclists sent pedestrians scuttling for the road edge.
17th century architecture reflected in the swirling ripples of eddies caused by diving moorhens: "Which is the crazier, I wondered, the house or its reflection"?
Two men strolled, hand in hand, along the opposite bank; they paused briefly and then turning their heads, kissed beneath the Birch tree. They pulled away laughing and then sat on the bench facing mine. I smiled across the canal towards them and in my heart wished them all the luck and fortune that Jeff and I have enjoyed over the past seventeen years.
