The street where I used to live was a cul-de-sac. Over there on the westside there was this bearded American who wore shorts and a woolly jumper and had a huge belly and big spectacles who used to spend his days walking round with a book held out in front of him. The pavement was his guide; he would walk into the cul-de-sac round the top end and back out again as all the while the text did cross his eyes.
Now there’s one over here on the eastside. He’s built along similar lines to the original and also has a beard and the curiously mixed atmosphere of one-rung-up-from-a-tramp about his personage. I saw him this eventide at 16.05. It was going dark. It cannot be good for his eyes.