I try to detach myself from it. I remember doing the same, or at least trying to do the same 33 years ago today between 11.00 am and 4.16 pm. What a wealth of life has been lived since then. It hurts, still. As does my shoulder and my arm. An aching, rather than a pain, a dull, insistence of discomfort. It makes me cross and I am sorry for it.
There is a row of rabbits on a window shelf in a house along North Parade. They are toy rabbits, obviously and they have their backs to me as I walk past. A little line of them, in pastel colours. Cute and soppy as they are they give me a little fillip of joy.
