EDITOR'S PERSPECTIVE: The evidence of real lives is scattered all around

The over-green grass – why? Laziness, a death or someone just helping out the environment by undertaking No Mow May. Less likely. Particularly as it’s July.

There’s a shoe, a sock, and nearby a ripped open bag which had contained a cut loaf now spilled onto the pavement. Three separate incidents, two, one? Simply coincidence or a violent struggle. Probably just someone losing a sock or shoe and someone else dropping the torn bag of bread. Then again, nearby there’s a takeaway box on the floor, it’s contents barely touched. Was it so bad the person who bought it just tossed it aside or was it lost in the struggle?

A passing bloke ignores my overly cheery “good morning”. Ignorant git. Or maybe he’s just lost in thought and something so terrible has happened that his day is already beyond ever being good. Maybe he’s looking for his shoe or think he might warm up that takeaway he lost last night..

A dog runs solo. Is that just what it does? Has it escaped? Has something happened to the person walking it?

A group of kids playing football, each one chasing the ball forwards and backwards, no tactics, no reading the game, out of breath, except for one lad who looks like he knows the game, he has a chance. He will either make it or go to prison, such is the way of the world.

Why can’t I walk without thought? Why do I have to attempt to analyse the minutiae of everyday life? It’s what gives us the clues as to what’s really happening in the world – mostly just people dropping their rubbish, creating a mess and leaving it for other people to clear up. That includes bombs and buildings left to rot by absent landlords and business people who only care about their surroundings when it makes them money and abandon them at the first sign of a problem – it’s not just a working class thing

Then reality bites – £6.99 for half a water melon. You’ve got to be joking. The price of things today. I shake my head and contemplate the likely price of a Cantaloupe. Maybe it is just a working class thing – you don’t often see slices of large exotic fruits cluttering up the pavements of the estates. “I’m sick of people dropping their artichokes and jackfruit all over the bloody place Jim.”

I’m into work, someone’s missing, they would have messaged if something was wrong – it’s not 1972. But would they? What if something so bad has happened they haven’t had time. It’s the wi-fi that’s down! Still, that doesn’t mean something else hasn’t happened.

The door goes. They’ve arrived. Everyone’s here now. All is okay.

A quick glance out of the window tells me that’s probably not going to be the case for long. There’s evidence of tragedy, lives destroyed wrong-doing, sadness and badness everywhere, if you look for it.

As the litter-pickers bin bag the evidence of the previous night and the rain sweeps away the remaining debris, you may not find it right now. But you will if you wait a little while.