Wimbledon Common has been the backdrop - off and on, off and on - to my whole life, one way or another. Obviously, for the last forty years I've only seen it spasmodically - every few weeks, every few months - but it's always been there. So - on another lovely day of late summer - I went and sat there by the pond for a while the afternoon, and looked at the heron, and the heron looked at fish. Looked at fish very closely and intently. The horse chestnut trees, which I thought a couple of years back were diseased and doomed, seem to have revivified.
It's not going to be easy heading back to the US in the morning - which is obviously and presumably whilst I'm trying to hang onto continuity with my past ...
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