Endeavour

Your son's posted there, isn't he? Northern Ireland? Yes, sir. Yes, he is. Getting on all right? Hard to tell with, Sam, sir. He writes home to his mother once a week. But with the postal strike. And Morse, how's he these days? Morse is Morse, sir. You know more than any what last year took out of us all. He walks a step slower, maybe. Lost some of his bounce, you mean? Bit less full of himself. Bit less cocksure. That's not always a bad thing. Bit of uncertainty, bit of doubt makes a man more careful in his work, more thorough. Perhaps time does that to all of us, sooner or later. There are some blows from which one never quite recovers. Not fully, at least. One thing's for sure, he's no more the kid that got off the coach from Carshall New Town. (gentle thoughtful music)