Not much to inspire of late. Grey skies, flat light, a daylight that never seems to brighten beyond murky.
But there was visiting a good friend from university in Worcester, where he recently moved for work (how is it that we are all so scattered now? Lots of us in London, sure, but, also, some of us, who used to be just along the corridor, down the stairs, across the courtyard, in other towns, building other lives, working or studying, but we are no longer all together, and I miss that). Catching up, pretending it was all still cups of tea and slices of toast and hours spent trawling videos on Youtube (this is brilliant, gives me a lurch in the stomach that I will never be a student again - see above - but brilliant all the same).
There was the moss on the stones at Worcester Cathedral, and a good morning spent rifling round charity shops.
There was helping another friend build flat pack furniture for her new home, feeling useful and productive to the sound of Sunday morning radio, until I hammered with my left hand ("NEVER hammer with your left hand" M scolds me later) and hit my right index finger, causing a blossoming of blood beneath unbroken skin and sudden dizziness.
There was Sunday afternoon at the cinema with M, the biggest screen in Britain, daft glasses, crackling bags of salted popcorn, blue, six-foot aliens.
There has been the new Vampire Weekend album on my iPod whilst on the treadmill ("It struck me that the two of us could run...") and the first snowdrops from the garden, brought down from Norfolk for me on Monday night by a mum who understands that sometimes it is the smallest things that make these days not quite so bleak....