How do I know it's Epiphany even if I'm a secularist?  A stroll on the evening streets is how.

The tide went out in Notting Hill, then it came back in again and sluiced up Xmas trees. Tree after tree. They are everywhere: on side roads, main roads, down tiny alleys. Many still luxuriantly green and all pine fresh fragrant, lying at crazy angles on the pavement.

Against the steps of warm houses or propped against the London Plane trees that etch their way down Holland park avenue. Or balanced against the side of municipal waste bins. Bought, used, forgotten, dumped.

Sad, silent, forlorn sentinels who bore the baubles of the season and now waiting in the cold to be picked up and fed to the council chipper. I see this every year.  Tempus fugit