As a man once sent for a fertility test by a new doctor called Cockshoot, I should never be surprised by coincidence.
I’m riding around south Manchester at the moment, piecing together a geography I know radially from a childhood of car journeys in and out of the city centre, into a geography I’m beginning to live and cycle laterally.
This morning a memory was triggered by a street called Ballbrooke Avenue. Turning off my route a couple of streets back and a few streets in, I found this house (on the right) where once I kicked a ball and broke a stained glass window.
Close friends of my parents lived here, the kind that gave you birthday presents. I remember the road name and house number from writing envelopes for all the thank you letters, and the one apology.
And here, this morning, in the street lies a ball. Inviting me.
A simple, moving live memorial at Piccadilly this morning
Have I flown from darkness into light or from light into darkness?
4 Curious Facts About Japanese Cherry Tree You Probably Don’t Know
Yorkshire karma, Manchester vipaka
Look at all these spitters
We finally moved into our new house last week
Touch the Line
"Was London really only a few hours away down the road? I asked myself. I had made the break."- H. V. Morton, The Call of England