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The knife grinder's look was friendly on the surface.

"If he isn't fierce worried about his driveway"—the knife grinder tilted his head and sucked air—"he needs to be. Tarmac's cracked serious like. Pack of tinkers laid it originally, that's my guess. Rain'll freeze inside them cracks come winter, prize the tarmac up, see, and by spring it'll be like the moon! Needs tearin' up and relayin' proper. Me and my brother'll get it done faster than—" His finger click was as loud as the popper in Frustration.

Knife Grinder heaved up his kit bag and walked down the drive.

Only when Mum dished up the stew did I even remember the Knife Grinder's visit.

“This Knife Grinder chap made an excellent job of the scissors and knives last year.”