Two miles, fruit breakfast… Yesterday, an occasional congregant at St John the Evangelist asked me “How long have you worked here?”, to which I answered (a bit puzzled — had she begun losing memories?) “Eight years; this is the beginning of my ninth.” It then dawned on both of us that she hadn’t seen me in a year and a half, or more, during which time my hair and beard had grown from close-shaven to long, shaggy. I’ve also lost a stone or two (she said, ‘Your bone structure has changed’, which I suspect is impossible, but maybe a little less fat creates that impression).