Tom Eaton Columnist

Every day as the autumn dusk falls, she walks her two little dogs down my street. Nothing stops her gentle wandering. Not wind, not the gathering gloom, not lockdown regulations. She remains as serenely unconcerned and comfortably oblivious as Bheki Cele attending a lecture about leadership in a modern democracy.

Her almost supernatural calm has fascinated me for weeks. She has shared my street with a handful of regulation-busting walkers, but all of them have made some small concession to current events, their apparent nonchalance betrayed by a slightly hurried gait or hushed conversation.

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