This may look as though it's chilly, but it's been very warm all day (though I gather that another Beast from the East is trundling in next week). I managed to to escape for an hour - to buy some essentials (like shampoo) and breathe some fresh air, and to purchase a notebook for my mother. She wanted, she says, me to write in it, so that she can know exactly when I'm going to be here, when I'm going back to LA, what date I return, when I'm going out, what time I'll be going out, when I'll be back, how she can contact me. Fair enough. She made quite clear what kind of spiral bound notebook she wanted; what size, and so on. So - I track down the ideal item, in Rymans. I bring it back, proudly. Oh, says my mother, am I meant to be writing notes for your father? Much of the rest of the day was spent in similar conversation loops, some of them more anxiety-packed than others. So I was very grateful for a damp corner of Wimbledon Common from which to watch the sun set.
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