Dear little piano tuner has just left. I gave him £20, which is all he would take, and promised him a cake. 'Just something plain - a Victoria sponge would be nice,' he said, when pressed.
He's off to water the flowers at his wife's grave, and have an omelette at the cafe nearby.
When he'd finished tuning the piano, he played a few hymns on it to test it out, and they were so beautiful, and he was so lovely, that I had to fight back tears.