Leaves swirled and crackled along the cold stone pavements<br >and tarmac.adam road， hurrying to find some sheltered ledge<br >or wall where they could mass and huddle together with<br >others and wait for the end.<br > Radford thought about the leaves as he fixed his park-<br >ing light and as he walked up the short front path to his<br >door. It seemed only yesterday that they were just green<br >shoots， people were saying: The leaves have started to<br >show， and the invigorating atmosphere of spring was every-<br >where.<br > He stood at the door for a while， looking back along the<br >street with its so ordinary suburban semi-detached and<br >terraced houses， the regularly-spaced iron lamp standards<br >with blobs of light and dark shadows in between， and he<br >remembered the house in Farley Vale， the steep gables and<br >clean white walls， the lawns and silver birches， the firs and<br >oaks. The nearest to it had been over two hundred yards<br >away， hidden by shrubs and trees. He had loved that place，<br >had put a lot into it， and he d never quite got over the<br >wrench of leaving it， nor had the bitterness left him. When<br >you are riding high it is difficult to be pessimistic， to have<br >doubts. You could be blissfully ignorant of what lay round<br >the corner and then~and then， the whole structure of your<br >economic existence could fall about your ears.<br >