take care, drive carefully.

Before i lived on the edge of this French forest i shared a top floor flat in a London street next to the railway line.

And Thomas was about to be born.

My own life was measured by the departure of the 9:15 from Paddington and the arrival of the express service from Bristol, I wasn’t so aware of the timetable of the seasons, of life and death.

When I moved, shortly after the birth of my own son, Thomas was just a baby but became a neighbour here on the edge of the forest. His parents are farmers so they already new about the rhythms of the seasons, I have had to learn.

Back in the city I knew when it was Christmas, coloured lights told me this – but I rarely knew my neighbours and their comings and goings.

Here on the edge of village as well as forest most news reaches you and I am much more aware of life and death than I was in England.

My son and Thomas met at the same primary school, they were in the same class when Christine, their teacher, lost her husband – a victim of a sudden heart attack as he went to swim one summer holiday.

She was back at her post the following September.

This morning is the second day of October and early, as my son was sleeping, I went to the meadow to gather walnuts. I spent an hour lost amongst the fallen leaves and realised that autumn is here, there is no doubt.

This afternoon we will go to the church in the village to mourn a death.

I can not say that we will celebrate a life, it had hardly begun.

It's not fair, there is no doubt.

Thomas was just 20.