His reading glasses, one arm mended with electrical tape, in a hard case with a chemist’s name on it.

A paperback — a Le Carré, about two-thirds read, with a bus transfer in it as a bookmark, dated the twenty-ninth of November.

A pocket notebook, half used, which is almost entirely lists.

Times.

Places. Clinic Weds 2.15. Tell H about Thursday. Not a diary.

A man managing a life with a notebook because he had nowhere to put anything down.

One pair of thick wool socks, unopened, still in the cardboard band.