Ali’s leading me up the garden path.

I kicked off my heels and what Sylvester calls my ‘office drag’ and slipped on a more casual outfit after work, as I often do. A change of clothes and I am already leaving the stress of work behind.

After work I put on the kettle and settled into the garden chair in the late summer sunshine. My garden is a great joy to me after a hard day pretending to work at an advertising agency.

Watching the sun sparkle on the little fountain that bubbles away in the pond, and enjoying the sight of lighting glint off the muscled contours of Ali’s shoulders as he kneels weeding the flower beds, I feel the tiniest sensation of guilt at the enormous level of privilege I enjoy. I sipped my tea, and poured one for Ali, who joined me at the wicker table.

He is such a delight to chat with. This afternoon he told me the most extraordinary story of his cousin, who works on a cruise ship.

“It was when the ship was being repositioned that he had the accident,” said Ali.

“The accident?” I replied.

“Oh yes, he lost his leg. Ice skating can be very dangerous,” he continued.

“How on earth,” I queried, “can you loose a leg ice skating. And you say he was on a cruise ship?”