BY ROBERT CATTO

It's early. But I'm late.

People are off to work, I've got an appointment on the other side of our neighbourhood - but the light is good, and I can't help making myself just that little bit late as I walk.

Everyone else is rushing, but I go in fits and starts - I'm a fast walker any any time, but then I'll stop suddenly when something catches my eye, the shadows mingle, the angles line up, the dog has David Bowie eyes, whatever.

So I'm going at a relatively good pace; except, of course, when I'm not.

And...somehow, I've misjudged it. "Hey Rob, great to see you! You know you're not booked in until later though, right...?"

It's 9:20am. The appointment is...at 1:45pm.

Later in the day, I'll do it all again, the same walk, the same streets, but it's not the same light.

I get there on time. Early, even...