Childhood's End

Our marking the passing of Brian Cant last night went on a bit longer than the usual. You know how it is. Captain Flack and the band wanted to blow a Last Post, but since the catering had consisted of the supplies of cider that Windy Miller had brought along, it turned out more difficult than we all expected.

It is a shock though. In my mind Brian Cant was - like John Noakes - still a young man, making absurd games up and messing about with Floella Benjamin. Not John Noakes. That would have been a Play Away /  Blue Peter mash up that should have happened.
But all this time it turns out that Brian Cant had been getting old! And if him, then presumably I'm not immune to the process. Childhood is a garden we may return to, but not in the same direction.

Here is the clock, the Trumpton clock. Telling the time, steadily, sensibly; never too quickly, never too slowly.

Ask not for whom Trumpton Clock tells the time.

It tells for thee.