“A branch smashes on a nearby mudstone slab and the leaves do not rain down politely like this is a wholesome and earthy wedding, they spark as if they are flaming green from an explosion. But the red-haired man is chatting about all the books that are …”

“Look, a dead great-uncle. He is staring straight ahead through a black-and-white film as his boat carves through the waves. He is standing on a beach all scratched up and flickering. He is wearing war medals stored in a box I can’t find in the shed. …”