It might be a case of intrusive n. Which I mostly don’t mind. But when my in-laws say “an otel” it does my head in.
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7/ something sarky, like “Gosh the world sure is lucky to have know-it-alls like you in it, wandering around and sharing their superior knowledge with women like me. Thank you so much. I will try hard to be better.” Or something straightforward, honest and succinct, like:

5/ as someone whose nose has mostly got away with it, I felt kindly disposed towards him. I waited for him to comment on the weather. Or my lovely camellias all in bud. Or the good work I was doing. Guess what he said?

4/ paused to say something. He was wearing a bright green puffer jacket. And he was probably in his late ‘50s. His nose has reacted badly to too much sun and/or alcohol in his life. A big fan of an older person rocking bold colours and, being of a similar vintage and

3/ the chance to get on with it is always an indicator of lengthening days, and some blue sky. With a bit of effort everything looks so much better. It’s also a chance to say hello to neighbours and passers-by which is always rare during the darker days. Sure enough, a man walking by

2/ with some areas that were grungy from long-dead summer foliage. I got rubber gloves, a bowl of hot soapy water and a scrubbing brush and set to work. A really satisfying annual job that I almost look forward to: