You do get old, you know, if you are lucky.

You can’t avoid that – if you get there.

You can plan for it as you are able, but you can’t know how it will happen, whether, in fact, it will happen at all.

had all this when I was on the bus!

I don’t carry a phone any more – only if I think I may need to ring for a taxi while I am out.  No.  I don’t drive.  Could ha’ done, could ha’ done . . .

I don’t carry a phone that I could take notes on – this is what I was going to say.  I carry, instead, in that old-fashioned way, a notebook.

I thought of what I was going to say, got my notebook out of my pocket, looked for the pencil that should have been squashed in with it – it wasn’t there.

I was in the queue – not exactly on the bus at that point – without writing it down, I knew I would have forgotten it, by the time I was on the bus.  Let’s try for some accuracy.

I could have looked in my bag – for the pencil, or a pen – I should have one – I’m a writer – come on!

Something about trust . . .

You can’t look into the future to see, so you need to have some trust.

Without the worry.

That was it!  I was going to say – you need to have faith – if you are religious, you need faith . . .

I am not religious, in fact, and so I trust.

I trust that, within the cosmic wherewithal, things will fall out – one way or another.

I’ve written something else, better than this.

But I’m not putting it here – it is there in my copy of this that I keep.

Something is missing, I say.

I am still working on the boundaries of what a blog is.

I did a course on postmodernism once, and it was all about what postmodernism is.