I’ve seen him, not quite daily, but often enough over getting on for nine years now, coming round the corner with first three then two Welsh springer spaniels.
Maybe five years ago we started to say ‘Good morning’ – no smiles and his gruffly abrupt from beneath a ragged grey moustache.
Five weeks ago when warmth retreated back to icy, he commented on the change in weather and I on his brown woolly hat, not seen through all the snow.
Since then maybe a couple more laconic comments on the day.
In today’s unpleasant northern wind and icy sleet I said it was a day to stay at home and he said he’d be required to go to Morrisons for shopping, then added ‘and I’ve five paintings yet to finish.’
And my view of him was instantly rejigged.