BIRTH AND DEATH

‘I’m going to make a speech at your birthday,’ I said.
‘You mean talk about yourself,’ she said.
‘How well you know me,’ I said sadly, unsettled from then and the rest of the day.
On the train I bought a single to Clifton Down before we left Stapleton Road station. For the journey I stared out the window past the gas storage tank, was low, Eastville, until we reached Montpelier and I looked up...
...Sure Con, stood waiting for the door to open, full-bodied shoulder length hair, rucksack over one, and what looked like a didgeridoo case over the other shoulder...
...I’d lived two years as his tenant in a house opposite the Star and Garter on Albany Green...
...his father drowned off some south sea island coast a few months after I’d moved out and I sent him a card said, ‘Sorry for your loss.’
Loss is a characteristic of change.