It was a crossword answer. The clue was something like ‘the perspective of non-interference’ or was it ‘practice’? My memory is so elusive these days. I have something in there and in a flicker it is gone. I write little notes for myself all the time, little yellow post-it notes litter my notebooks. Laissez-faire the art of letting things be. A kind of graceful detachment. Well, that is how I interpret it, others might see it as not caring. I try to let things be. To not change what is. And yet, there is so much that I cannot agree with. But who am I to interfere? The rubbish strewn across the road from the early morning gulls ransacking. I leave it. Is that indolence or is a wish to live lightly in this world? When should one interfere? When another is in danger or hurt? Of course. Detachment is an interesting state. Like the young seagulls I see about the town and up at the University. One was hovering by the door at work yesterday. They look so lost, so abandoned, letting out little squeals and squawks in the hope of rescue. We must just leave them. Leave them. Nature will take care of them or not, as the case will be.

I was woken by a call. An early morning booking. And then I couldn’t sleep. As a consequence I am sleepy and jaded today. It worked out in the end though fretting about it in my bed was what kept me from sleep. She helped me. In her usual flurryingly-busy way she helped me out. And I was grateful, genuinely. People are rarely unkind, but they can be incautious or clumsy, as I can be, all too often. How do I come across? Am I a little sharp at times?

I read voraciously these days. It helps. I am learning about how to tell a story, how to keep a pace going. I have been fascinated, drawn in, may I know the same skill.

Our geraniums grow ragged, leggy and parched. I long to prune, to start again. But there are still a few buds yet to open. I must give them a chance to see out their role, their potential before cutting.