Spent a large chunk of this evening in Priory Park with a paperback. The evening had a slightly depressing feeling – the light, filtering through clouds that promise rain, had a definite grey quality. Even the kids playing cricket seemed a bit lacklustre, not enjoying themselves as much as you think they should. At least the limes and maples that surround the park kept the worst of the steady breeze away from my usual park bench, where I stretched myself out for more than an hour to read, people-watch and wait for my mobile to ring (it didn’t, needless to say).
However, on returning home, I got this from the BT Disembodied Voice:
The caller withheld their number.
Speculated causes: someone secretive, an ex-girlfriend or someone trying to sell me something. Or possibly someone that falls into all three categories.