Cooler tonight, no wind.

I notice a tree with a big goblet of flower buds and leaves that I don't recognise. Then I notice it again so I ask Claude what it is. Elder. It quips that I ought to come back out to collect the flowers for champagne, as if I know what to do with elderberry.

Some kids out for a walk, and a guy in a big flat Audi edging gingerly over the potholes outside the fishing pond, but otherwise we see no one. The hawthorns are all dropping their petals and the ground is littered with white spots. Ghyll keeps close.