Around midnight

The reason that I haven’t written for a few days is that my mind has been like the apron in the picture. Full of thoughts and things and nothing really complete.

Since my foray into drain maintenance (you might remember the French drain cleaned with the help of the chickens), I started a new job (admittedly in the same place and for the same person as before but nevertheless a new direction) in an office, I found someone’s phone on a walk (and subsequently organised with the owner to ring me when he goes past – he still hasn’t), I got a little bit of insight into physical activity and its links to productivity (see my new job) and also cooked for two couples who have never before eaten in our house (pressure on!).

And that’s when it happened. As I prodded the potatoes to see if they are cooked through and stopped the heat alarm from going off when I open the oven door (every time!), I listened to the conversation from the next room where our guests were discussing schools and Barcelona.

Then my phone rang. My brother told me that a man who had been his friend (albeit not a close one) for the past ten years had bled to death after being beaten in a London street the night before. Because of a small argument with a youth in a take away shop. Around midnight. He was 31.

Life is short. Enjoy it.

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