A hike through Clissold Park with the rucksack to buy compost at the garden shop. The fences have finally been taken up on the top fields of the park and been rolled up into little biscuit shapes. It’s like a reference to the round hay bales I used to see dotted around the countryside as a kid. The middle aged bloke behind the counter starts telling me about Hull City’s promotion and when he hears I’m a Leeds fan he talks about their downfall being down to the change from fast midfield running to a slow passing European style game. He looks like Ena Sharples’ older brother.
“North, south, east or west – it doesn’t matter where you plant stuff. If you want it to grow, it’ll grow.”