Wednesday, January 14, 2009

On its way, the vicar and memory loss.

1. At the end of lunch, she says: 'It's lovely outside. Warm as spring.'

2. The parish vicar visits us at our desks once a month to see how we're doing. He has a fistful of earrings and an infectious laugh. Wherever he goes round the office there is laughter and exchange of news.

3. I wake in the dark and can't remember anything about myself or my life. Then the knowledge returns and I have to smile at how happy I am.

Morning, errands and entertainment.

1. I murmur an acknowledging greeting to a passing bin man. He is a well brought-up African and replies with eye contact and a warm 'Goo...