We never see that this way around. However, it is a convolute. And a therefore. Things and happenings do not follow the toffee tasting flow of things. There is bitter and snag and falter and halt and fight and sharp and turn away. In everything. As I wander through the late, not yet, days of my life, I can see a new alert to the happenings, whatever they may be, as if Youngers are pausing, wondering, thinking, shaping themselves. Faltering yes, because they may have no guidance, but wondering, thinking, shaping, nonetheless. They are in the game, at the outset. sttrategising moves, working the board, syncing the manoeuvres. And I so hope so.

A woman died. She was 58. A beautiful soul, always a smile, always a welcome. Why do we say that, and always? That’s the Toffee. We do this because we don’t know what the hell else to say when someone is gone, all of a sudden, and we almost didn’t know them at all.

She is beyond Toffee speke. She was, now let me tell you, a smiling meet on the harbour street, another smile lift in the hardware store, in the bank, anywhere. I have no memory without a smile, even when her eyes dimmed and darkened, still she smiled. She is gone.

There is new life ahead. She would like that.

Sleep in peace Heather.