Unclogged he had done well seat on the board twin-set private secretary brass plate on the door yet when he snouted soggy leaves from the drain rattled the grate with his stick when you saw the faint smile of satisfaction hearing the gurgle of relief then absent-mindedly peel tentacles of ivy from that ash you realised as a kid he would always have a pen-knife a piece of string in his pocket a catapult dangling David Smith