Once upon a time I was at a funeral. While I was there I met the parents of a boy I dated once. Once, and once only. I was about sixteen at the time. He wasn't my type, very boring. His mother asked me if I remembered him. Well of course I remembered him. She said, accusingly: "He never married, you know". Make of that what you will. Maybe it was just a passing comment.

The sun is shining and the cherry tree is laden with gold leaf. While I was in Newport I took my usual route with the dog through what's left of Grove Park. It was covered in fox leaves and fish leaves and pear leaves. Very beautiful. My old dear is completely independent as long as there's someone there to do everything for her. I'm working on her definition of independent, you understand. She needs an army of slaves.

I need renewed motivation. Too much to do, so can't start. You know how it is. Overwhelming.

And I'm bored, not of, but with (take note, Oli. I don't suppose you care. Are you losing your voice, darling? You should look after yourself better).

Curl and whisper in the gloom. Gloom is a strange word. Comical.

Do you have any idea of how many spider solitaire games I've won today?