The afternoon of August 8th 2008

My house belongs to the shortest row of a pretty L-shaped terrace. Three or four houses along there's an opening down a yard which the people from the long row use to access their houses. Our garden, the almost-an-acre of land in between, is shared by myself, my father, my brother and my elderly granny who lives in the fifth, maybe sixth house down the long row. Once upon a time ago, at the entrance of the yard, there was a towering old post that glittered; a beautiful, sparkling yellow light. People gathered there at Christmas time. Their hearts were cheery, alive and warm. The frost was cold, but couldn't bite. They stood all around in their winter coats and scarves, singing carols in the snow. But as time went by the lamppost disappeared. And a little while later, the people did too.