The Peebles church bells sound every quarter hour:

ding dong ding dong (x4)

Then, on Sunday mornings, pealing and hymns and cascading notes to exhort the faithful out of bed and to church.

Depending on weather and wind, could sometimes hear it from home. Otherwise, faintly coming into awareness as we cycled the leaf-slippery, unbalanced lanes into town to join grandparents in worship followed by Sunday lunch and Sherlock Holmes.

The “golden” carriage clock on their mantlepiece, looking oddly constrained and refined compared to the rustic hand/home-crafted artefacts of home. But then, I’m not sure they were entirely comfortable in that small, modern space, either.

The taste of oven-roasted red and yellow peppers, crunchy roast chicken, and blackberry fool, intense in colour and flavour, swirled with not-quite-curdling double cream.

The smells from the kitchen where Elizabeth worked while William read to us from aged volume of Conan Doyle.

Sometimes, the dessert was burning hot “treacle” tart, and William would tell his “Stone cold again, sir – you really must do something about that cook!” story – or just the catch-phrase, with an endearing air of amusement.

The song “I hear the ticking of the clock” by Heart – that affected me so much in my teens – what was it… “How do I get you alone?” – Nick said he couldn’t quite see why I didn’t just talk to her…