The 'things' in the title of Alistair Elliot's new collection are the writer's back lane (a tempting distraction), a flag with medieval Syrian embroidery which the Queen of the Fairies gave to 'the' MacLeod, a radio which has provided news (or something) for six decades, posh flowers, and much else. As Elliot declares in a poem about a squashed bug in a book, one person's 'insignificant' can be right at the center for someone, perhaps, everyone else.