Damage limited, I move between friends who talk of dementia and the cost of care and the wi-fi life which beats my heart, keeping me in touch with my kids and the rest of the world – there, here and somewhere else. Flickering screens speak of fences in Calais and Kent and present a photograph of Pluto. ‘I don’t know’.
I think I’d better start doing this Blogging thing seriously. But why? And what constitutes ‘serious’? Seriousness involves a purpose and I can’t get beyond unravelling a chaos. That’s clearly not the image I project in ordinary life: I work; I drive; I maintain a home and yet internally my experience is that when the alarm clock sounds I am in shock and the rest of the day engages me in damage limitation.
I’m not daft. I’m not impoversished. The accident of my birth was lucky. What’s wrong?