Graham has put his bins out.
Collection is not tomorrow.
I mention this because he has previously argued, at some length, that putting bins out too early makes the road look untidy. Apparently the rule applies to everyone except Graham, who says he has “things on in the morning”. He declined to specify the things.
It has been one of those Sundays that seems to get dark before the afternoon has properly finished. I went into the park just after four and came back with mud on one shoe despite taking the same route I have taken all year. The grass is beginning to hold water again and the trees along the edge are thinning enough that more of the houses show through.
There were a few people still out: dog walkers, a family with two children on scooters, one runner moving at a pace that made me dislike him on principle.
By the time I got home, lights were coming on behind the back fences and the aircraft were more obvious against the darker sky. Nothing unusual, just the normal sequence of the road settling down: car doors, somebody dragging a bin badly, a television too loud through an open window, then less of everything as the evening goes on.
I took one photograph from the park and nearly did not keep it. There is no particular subject. Just wet grass, the tree line and the sky holding the last of the light.
I kept it because ordinary evenings are usually the ones nobody photographs.
Also because Graham’s bin is visible if you know where to look, and I intend to preserve the evidence.