The Last Devil To Die

That’s the thing about Coopers Chase. You’d imagine it was quiet and sedate, like a village pond on a summer’s day. But in truth it never stops moving, it’s always in motion. And that motion is ageing, and death, and love, and grief, and final snatched moments and opportunities grasped. The urgency of old age. There’s nothing that makes you feel more alive than the certainty of death.

I think we’re due a period of peace and quiet now, aren’t we? A few months without murders, and corpses, without diamonds and spies, without guns and drugs and people threatening to kill us. Some time for Elizabeth to find her new feet.

I’ll tell you what I’d like instead. A few weddings. I don’t mind who. Donna and Bogdan, Chris and Patrice, Ron and Pauline, maybe Joanna and the football chairman. That’s what happens when you get older. Too many funerals, not enough weddings. And I love a wedding. Bring them on. Bring on love.

The daffodils are out very early this year. I’ve seen the daffodils bloom for nearly eighty years now, and they are still a miracle to me. To still be here, to see the flowers that so many other people won’t see. Every year, poking their heads up to see who’s still around to enjoy the show. Though they are out very early this year, which I know is probably global warming, and everyone will end up dying. You can still appreciate a flower though, can’t you? Gives you hope, despite the apocalypse.