I flick through the memories of years today. Coming up 7 years old. 7 is a good number. I used to write a veritable pillow book, a book of hours of my time and activities. Now I post pictures, self censor and read others. So here is some truth. The weeks are passing, pages turning in books as scenery rushes by at high speed. Trains and pathways are new friends, half overheard conversations of other passengers make for light hearted entertainment. The young chap with blond dreadlocks, German or Austrian, talking to a girl just off to uni, going from Salisbury to Bristol, both of them discussing dubstep and the best free parties. The lady training a cocker spaniel puppy, him soaking up the strokes and soft words of the jogging bottom wearing, perfectly coiffed,with a diamond stud in one ear, lads in the vestibule. The places I see. Old crumbling things, half dead, and alive with people there from the goodness of hearts. The conflict between the brand and the people on the floor. Rows of trees waving in the wind, windows creaking, and the bag on the floor, next to comfortable sensible shoes belonging to someone enjoying a cup of tea. I have walked on slippery gravel past roses, and into gardens of delight. When I return, I see visitors dancing like sugar plums in my dreams. I won't take off my name badge.Nothing much else is happening. Evening are cut short by travels home eating in to sleeping hours. But I don't mind. Nothing matters. So far the thrill of pastures new is worth it. Now for the mundane.I have been dancing again for the first time in months, which I suppose helps more than many things. A lovely dress, the suede soled sandals, and the lack of fear count for much on the floor. I barely ran out of partners. Today we slept in, and I washed out my new hair cut to see how it curled. It looked grand. I made terribly fried eggs for breakfast, and ate huge chunks of watermelon. We went to see Ruth and James for Ruth's birthday, met James' siblings, and played games. There was far too much junk food, but it was good to be out. Then we drove home in the rain, then the sun, then the rain. I saw a rainbow. And since then I have knitted on my sock and swallowed the rest of the Pratchett novel I was reading whole.