This was the dawn of my last day at Merton. These last pictures were I think a valedictory exercise; and it was indeed a farewell to more than I would have liked to acknowledge at the time. My closest friends had all gone down already. I was reluctant to go, but there was nobody left to share this with now. Time to move on, and find new people to share life with.

I had been planning these photos for a long time. Less adroitly, I hadn't had the foresight to ask Orlando if I could borrow his cable release for the late-night time-lapse pictures; and he had disappeared. So I trudged off to take my first picture, hoping that I would somehow be able to improvise. I remember making my way through Oxford, eyes downcast, praying for a cable release – somehow! And incredibly, just opposite the Angel on the corner of Holywell Street, lying in the gutter, was a cable release. I still treasure it.

But as well as miracles, everlasting loss. These beautiful trees, which I had long loved, were soon to fall victim to Dutch Elm Disease. There are no mature elms like these in our country any more: all died within a few years of this photo. I remember going back, some five years later, and being devastated to see callow little saplings standing awkwardly in their little protective fences, like twelve year old girls at a schoolkids' disco, cowering in the space once overlorded by these magisterial elms.

And I remember visiting again, much more recently, and finding those schoolgirls now not only full-grown but almost matronly. I was glad to see the fine avenue restored; but when even the landscape looks young, and I feel able to tell majestic trees about their still more majestic forebears, I wonder if I am not being called to become part of their landscape too.