It’s the same every morning. I plonk myself and my coffee down at my desk and harry the computer awake with a random smash of keys. And then there it is, waiting for me, staring at me from the top of my to do list. WRITE ABOUT PAGE.

It’s been a priority for years, rolled over from a thousand yesterdays; for some reason the uppercasiness is never quite insistent enough. Perhaps indelibility has robbed it of all authority – it needs doing, but I’ve coped this long without it being done, so maybe the doing of it can be postponed a little longer. Would another day without a few words really be so bad?