an ordinary girl.

'Don't you worry, this will all make sense tomorrow.' - Alison Moyet, Ordinary Girl

Yesterday I watched a woman in a headscarf and a jilbab kiss her man late in the afternoon on the 300 bus.

She held his hand; otherwise they didn't touch, except for the lips and the clasped fingers, clenched tightly.After the kiss, they leaned back and gazed into each other's eyes. A gaze so powerful I could feel it from my side of the bus. At the stop before mine they stepped off the bus at my stop and walked into the distance, not touching. She demure, him aloof.

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I drove, half-asleep today at midday, from where I was to where I am. The sun shone for a while. I listened to the radio, but I couldn't tell you what was playing because I didn't really hear it.

Later, I visited the apartment I'm going to move into in August. The owner, who is Portuguese, made me instant coffee with milk powder and heaps of sugar to drink while we viewed the flat.  I was transported immediately to my boarding school where we premixed instant coffee, milk powder and sugar and then ate it out the jar instead of making coffee with it.

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I visited the flower shop where I used to work to talk to my ex-boss, and, coincidentally (there are no coincidences) my other ex-boss and her husband came in to discuss the flowers they are ordering for the re-dedication of their wedding vows. Surrounded by the scent of paper whites we discussed divorce, while they pored over books of wedding flowers.

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I lay in my bed with Seb and read some of The Dark is Rising after he finished watching the rugby. I talked on the phone and heard things I wanted to hear. I ate strawberries with yoghurt. I have The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle next to my bed to read in a minute, but I really want to be reading We Need to Talk about Kevin. I might read nothing at all. When faced with what I must do and what I want to do I rarely choose either option, preferring to flee.

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I'm giving it 100%. Because anything that's worth doing is worth doing well. Right?