Found the old overseas photos in the shed while looking for a manual. There was one outside the pub in England with four people whose first names I could remember and surnames I couldn't. I can still tell you which door stuck in the wet and which field we worked in Ireland, but apparently names weren't filed as carefully. Sharon asked if I wished we'd stayed away longer. I don't think so. What I miss looking at those pictures is not knowing exactly what the following month was going to look like. At the time I mostly wanted a reliable job and somewhere decent to sleep. Funny how the bits you grumbled about get improved by thirty years in a shoebox.

One of last season's workers sent a picture from home and asked whether there'd be a place for him when he came back. Good worker, no trouble, knows what needs doing without being chased. I was pleased he asked for us and told Sharon about it over dinner. She said I sounded as if an old mate was visiting. Suppose that isn't far off, though I spent half his last week here reminding him not to leave things in the access track. The place is quieter when the seasonal crew goes. I complain enough about the noise when they're here, but I like knowing who's making it. Sent him a proper answer after dinner, then looked at the photo again.

Walked the rows with Mo before breakfast and came back hungry enough to eat standing at the bench while the toast was still too hot. The air had a bite to it at first, then I warmed up and carried the jacket instead of wearing it. Knee was quiet on the flat ground, which makes a decent difference to the pace. I wasn't testing it, just walking, and only noticed how freely I'd been moving when I reached the steps at home and slowed out of habit. The dog could happily have gone round again. I had eggs, another slice of toast and the sort of appetite I remember having every morning when I was younger. Not a bad start.