Diary

The clocks went back an hour at 2 this morning. I woke up terribly early to catch my waiting taxi to Heathrow. I flew British Midlands to Dublin. Wonderful in-flight crew and ground service. They deserve top marks. Clumsy with my hand luggage, I settled for breakfast on the plane and not at an airport-cafe. I also read a bit of William Trevor. It had been grey in London, the city's pallor showing up in the cold rain and blustery winds. But the sun was now shining brightly in Ireland and I felt that I had stepped into the twilight of a long, burnished summer.
And so begins another strange unspoken joy.