Walking along the corridors at Holborn Tube I hear some comforting clarinet/alto saxophone jazz sounds wafting along and bouncing off the walls. It sort of reminds me of being in London in the late 1980s, when there seemed to be more of that kind of music around. As I get closer to the source I am shocked to see that it’s the old man who lives on the end of our road, blowing on an alto sax. I walk past, feeling that I might have suddenly fallen asleep and be dreaming this.
The old man keeps a small front garden with all kinds of interesting small fruit bushes and vibrant flowers. Many times I have wanted to say how much I like his garden but he gives off a vibe of not really wanting to chat. I walk past him a lot on our road but he never catches my eye. I’ll have something to talk to him about now.